


Party in the CIA

by RamboBrite



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bathroom Sex, CIA!Ben, Casual Sex, Enhanced Interrogation Techniques, Espionage, Eventual Smut, F/M, Forbidden Love, Hook Up, I definitely watched Mr and Mrs Smith, Implied/Referenced Torture, MI6 Agents, MI6!Rey, Mentions of past abuse, Modern AU, Moral Ambiguity, Partners to Lovers, Referenced murder, Rey is a badass, Rey is going through it, Super tropey, Why Did I Write This?, agent kylo ren, author definitely didn't listen to weird al, because i'm giving you a car chase, ben solo can be a dick, but only sometimes, but they don't really hate each other, no one is a good person, secret agent man, sometimes they have hate sex, unlikely partners, violent interrogation, walk away if you don't like cheesy action tropes, you want a car chase?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23186932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamboBrite/pseuds/RamboBrite
Summary: “But it’s against regulation to-to fraternize with partners in an operation,” he spluttered, feeling far more flustered than he reasonably should, given everything they’d already done together.“Technically, we weren’t partners yet. Not officially, anyway,” Rey replied with a smirk. “So, I haven’t really broken any regulations. I’m surprised that you’re so prissy about it, though. You seemed much more laid back about these sorts of things last night.”---CIA Officer Kylo Ren, Ben Solo when he's off the clock, is excited to get back to field work. What he didn't expect was to be saddled with a rookie agent from MI6.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 23
Kudos: 80
Collections: reylo trash





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a slightly grittier Reylo story. So here's the secret agent Reylo that no one asked for, but I'm writing anyways.

“Rey! Rey! Wake up!” Ben shouted, his own voice coming out muffled to his ears. The blast had hurt his eardrums and he was having a hard time hearing at the moment. He could feel sweat and blood pooling on his brow as he shook the figure beneath him. She was limp as a ragdoll and he swore loudly, or at least he thought it was loudly.

He wouldn’t be able to hear her pulse, but he pulled the neckline of her t-shirt down and placed his hand between her breasts and felt. Nothing. Shit, shit shit. He lay her back down as carefully as possible and knotted his hands together, pumping them over her heart, willing it to start beating again. He tilted her head backwards and placed his lips over it, plugging her nose and blowing into her mouth. Her chest expanded and fell with each breath, but she still wasn’t breathing on her own. He could taste the blood and dirt on her lips. He pumped her chest again, wanting to beat on it, to force her to cling to life. His mind, normally cool and collected, was racing. His thoughts finally fell upon the little medi-kit that Rey had on her person and only stopped his frantic attempts at resuscitation long enough to rip open the zipper and find the tiny syringe. It was already preloaded with epinephrine and he ripped the cap off and plunged it down where he knew her heart was. He pressed the liquid in and counted, hoping.

Suddenly she stirred under him with violence and inhaled forcefully. Her hand clutched at his and her eyes darted around with panicked confusion at the ruins around them, dust heavy in the air from the explosion. “Ben?” he thought she mouthed his name but couldn’t hear well enough to tell.

The tension went out of his body; she was alive. Oh god, she was alive. He clutched her to his chest as a tidal wave of emotions washed over him. She flinched slightly at the sudden passion and he backed off quickly. She was broken in several places and he tried not to assess the damage too critically right now. She was breathing again, thankfully but lost consciousness in his arms again. He hoped his comm was still functioning and pressed the button.

“Kilo Romeo breaking radio silence. Tango down. In need of immediate assistance. Medevac needed. Two klicks south of 34R DA 36450 14365. I repeat, two klicks south of 34R DA 36450 14365.” He held Rey in his arms, hoping that they’d find them in time. He had managed to stop her cardiac arrest and bring her back from the brink, but she wouldn’t last very long without further intervention. She was the one with all the medical knowledge. He only had enough field know how to stop her from bleeding out. This was something else entirely. He looked around at the hell they were surrounded by and clutched at her body, praying to God, Allah, Yahweh, Buddah, hell any damn deity who might keep her here with him.

“Just stay with, just stay with me,” he repeated over and over like a mantra, as hell continued to fall around them

* * *

**_Six Months Earlier_ **

“We have an assignment upcoming for you,” Luke Skywalker said, dropping a folder on his desk. Ben looked up at his director, his uncle outside of this office, with an eager look. It’d been months since he’d been allowed to do field work. His uncle had called him reckless, but Ben preferred to think of it as getting the job done. “You’ll be partnering with an operative from MI6.”

Ben’s mouth tugged down at the corner. He wasn’t in the mood for his first tactical operation back out in the field to be bogged down with the namby pamby tea drinkers that MI6 normally sent to rendezvous with him.

“Hux?” he asked, thinking of the only operative that he even remotely could handle dealing with, despite the Brit’s penchant being a huge pain in his ass. His uncle shook his head.

“Agent Hux is otherwise engaged. You’ll be dealing with one of their fresh graduates.”

“Fuck no,” Ben said, his brow furrowing. “I’m no one’s goddamn babysitter.”

His uncle glowered at him, “You’ll do as you’re ordered or you’ll keep sitting at this desk for another six months, maybe more.” That shut him up. He was about five minutes from blowing his brains out if he had to process one more field report in the CIA database. Luke knew _exactly_ how eager Ben was to get the fuck out of this office and was willing to push it if necessary.

“Fine,” he said sullenly.

“Besides, you’re not getting someone totally green. She’s had field work before. Top of her class, trained in several forms of hand to hand, sharp shooter _and_ she’s got medical training. Might save your life if you pull another stunt like last time.” Ben’s hand dropped reflexively to his side. He could still feel the bullet where it’d pierced his lung and come clean out the other side. It had taken him months to be cleared for active fieldwork again, even longer to pass the psych eval. “That’s her file, you’re scheduled for a meeting tomorrow and then we’ll talk about the assignment.”

Ben grimaced at the plain manila folder that his uncle had unceremoniously dumped on his workspace. It was light, a lot lighter than it should be given his own experience. Whoever this MI6 operative was, he’d figure them out just as well when he met them in person the next day. With a sweep of his large hand he deposited it in his desk drawer and looked at the time. Ten after five? Normally he’d stick around late but with the news of his next adventure in childminding, he figured what was the point and decided to cut loose.

He loosened his tie as he emerged into the damp March air of Langley, Virginia. His car, a nondescript black sedan beeped for him as he left the building. He drove down the 123 and sped along the Potomac, as he raced back to his DC apartment. He lit a cigarette as he wove around traffic and inhaled the smoke as if it was going out style, which in this day and age it actually was. But fuck it. He felt like the act was a rebellion against the healed wound in his abdomen. He could still remember the hole bleeding out, blood coming out of his mouth as he tried not to drown on his own fluids. By the barest stroke of luck, he had been saved by a medical team sweeping the area, and they had stuck a tube in his chest to remove the blood. That had probably been the worst pain of his entire life, and to be able to sit here and light up a cigarette now felt like a middle finger to the heavens.

As he found his parking structure and locked his car up, he debated whether or not he actually wanted to go back to his apartment. If he went back now, he’d probably just end up sitting around stewing on the next morning by himself and end up pissed off enough that he wouldn’t be able to actually sleep. He flicked out his cigarette and put it out with his shoe before heading down the stairs of the concrete building and settling his eyes on a nearby bar. He’d been there before and it was usually inhabited by tourists or visiting lobbyists, but always by people who he’d never have to speak to or worry about calling again.

He sat at the bar and ordered a double whiskey, neat. As he sipped the drink, he let his eyes roam over the bar like a cat sighting prey. He saw the usual crowd of visitors, faces different but stories the same. Then his eyes caught on _her._ She was sitting alone at the other end of the bar, a gin and tonic in her hand, and damn if he didn’t have a thing for brunettes. Her dark hair hung in curls around her face and they shook when she turned to watch him approach.

He saw something flash across her eyes for a moment, then she looked at him with bored indifference.

“Do you always look this happy when you drink?” Ben asked her, not looking directly at her as he stood facing the bar at her side.

“Only when the bar is this boring,” she responded. Hmm, English accent? He could work with that. Was that a hint of a smirk on her face?

“Want to find someplace more…interesting?” He leaned closer to her and she raised an eyebrow.

“Are you taking the mickey?” she asked, and he tried to remember his slang from the few conversations he’d had with Hux that didn’t involve work, but without much luck.

“All I know is that girls don’t usually come to bars to drink alone unless they had other plans,” he continued, and she seemed amused by something. Ben brushed his fingers over her forearm, and she looked at the contact and looked at him, a smile on her face. It lit up her face and she truly was a stunning creature.

“You know, normally I’d tell you to sod off, but tonight I’m feeling generous,” she replied, as she crossed her legs and downed the rest of her drink. “So please, elaborate on what other plans you had in mind.” She looked him straight in the eyes and he could see they were hazel.

“Let’s cut straight to it then; you think I’m attractive, we both know you’re attractive. We’re attracted to each other, so let’s just skip over the bullshit and get to the good stuff.” He ran his hand through his hair in a way that usually came off as roguish and charming and the girl laughed at him.

“Please tell me that this doesn’t normally work,” she replied with a smile playing at the corner of her mouth still. “Are American girls really stupid enough to buy that line?”

“Usually they think it’s cute,” he shrugged.

“Is that what they tell you?” she scoffed. “I think that _you_ think you’re cute, and you’ve never had anyone properly tell you different.”

“Would you like to be the first?” he replied, and she gave him a long look.

She reached into her purse then and put a ten-dollar bill on the bar before hopping down. He towered above her as he held out his arm. She slowly, almost hesitantly, took it and then he was walking back in the direction of his apartment.

* * *

She was gone the next morning before he awoke, and he supposed that that was for the best. He got out of bed and stretched. He hadn’t even asked for her name; he never did. She had been…something. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d actually had fun like that. His usual conquests seemed to either bask in self-hatred as they slunk back on the arms of the tall guy from the bar or look at him with puppy eyes when he got up the morning after and sent them on their way.

This girl had been in control from the very beginning and that was a new sensation for him. She knew what she wanted, and it was all he could do just to hold on. She had tasted like cherries and had writhed beneath him, on top of him and in front of him like a live wire. He almost wouldn’t mind seeing her again, but that wasn’t exactly his MO, and he wasn’t planning on changing now.

Ben hopped in the shower and tried to put the girl who had tempered the sting of loneliness for the evening out of his mind as he thought of the meeting he was supposed to attend at Langley. A shower, a shave and a fresh suit made him a new man and he made his way back out to CIA Headquarters.

Ben sat down in the stale fluorescent lighting of the briefing room and clicked his pen absently. He hated meeting new people, especially people he would have to work with. He looked at the time on the wall with impatience. The meeting wasn’t supposed to start for another five minutes, but he was already climbing the walls and ready for his next operation. He tried to calm his thoughts and focus on the ticking of each second as it seemed to echo in the room. Finally he saw his uncle approach, walking side by side with….Oh, fuck. Oh absolute fucking hell. His eyes widened as he recognized the brown hair, no longer lying about her shoulders but swept up into a tidy bun. She was wearing a pencil skirt and matching blazer over a conservative blouse and she carried a file holder not dissimilar to his own. Luke held open the door for her and she entered the room, making eye contact with him. If she remembered the previous night, her face didn’t betray it. He had to school his own expression into one of disinterested nonchalance at her approach.

She held out her hand to him with a professional air and he took it, “Agent Rey Niima, MI6.” She sat down opposite him at the table with grace and he couldn’t help but be reminded of interrogations he’d started in a similar fashion.

He gave her a curt nod before turning back to his uncle who didn’t seem to notice anything strange about the exchange. “Officer Ren, this is your new MI6 liaison. Agent Niima, this is Officer Kylo Ren.

“Now, we’re currently gathering intelligence on nuclear armament. The brass seems to think that there is some cross play between MI6 jurisdiction and our own interests,” Luke said, “which is why we’re even having this meeting. Briefing is tomorrow morning, so I would take this interval to get to know each other. You’ll be spending a lot of time together.” Ben tried to keep his mind off of how exactly they’d _already_ become quite well…acquainted.

“Thank you, sir,” Rey said and shook Luke’s hand in goodbye as the older man made to leave.

When he was safely out the door, Ben turned to look at the girl and hissed, “Did you know?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, and then a knowing smirk formed on her face. “Of course, I knew. _Some_ of us actually do our homework. Ben Solo, alias Kylo Ren, surprised you got that one past the CIA. One hundred and ninety centimeters, that would be six foot three since you’re American. Eighty-nine kilos. Hair black, eyes brown, temper…. unpredictable.” She listed off his profile with practiced ease and looked him in the eyes. “I could probably add a few more things to that now, but somehow I don’t think my bosses are really that interested in the length of your-“

“Enough. You’ve made your point,” Ben growled, trying to hide his embarrassment. “If you knew, why would you….you know?”

“Have sex with you? Let’s not be children, Ben,” she laughed, leaning forward. “Truth be told, I was surprised you didn’t know me. I thought maybe you were trying to have a go at me, but when it was obvious you had no idea who you were flirting with, I thought bugger it. Best get the pesky sex part out of the way early; don’t want you getting all gun-shy if you have to dig shrapnel out of me down the line.”

“But it’s against regulation to-to _fraternize_ with partners in an operation,” he spluttered, feeling far more flustered than he reasonably should, given everything they’d already done together.

“ _Technically_ , we weren’t partners yet. Not officially, anyway,” Rey replied with a smirk. “So, I haven’t really broken any regulations. I’m surprised that you’re so prissy about it, though. You seemed much more laid back about these sorts of things last night.”

To say that Ben was infuriated by her would have been a massive understatement. “Whatever, this conversation is over.” He stood up and grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his chair and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He paced by his desk as he tried to calm himself and seeing that attempt was futile, he made his way toward the locker rooms. He practically ripped his tie off and switched out into a tank top and shorts. He brought his sparring equipment with him; the training dummies in the CIA training room would have to suffice for his rage.

After pounding out a fierce three miles on the treadmill, he turned his aggression onto the dummies in a fierce barrage of punches and kicks until he was panting heavily. He barely noticed her presence until he heard, “You know, it works much better for training when they can fight back.”

Rey was there, wearing a strappy little tank top and leggings and that might not have been enough to make Ben blush if he didn’t know exactly what was under her clothing. She was lifting free weights from some distance away and had apparently been watching his progress.

He stopped his assault and turned to look at her. “Know something about that?”

“Well…yeah,” she said and rolled her eyes. “You really didn’t read my file, did you?”

He didn’t offer a response to the question and instead replied, “I think I could use a demonstration.”

Rey snorted at this and shrugged. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

Ben smirked, pulling himself into a boxing position. “Care to test that theory?” 

With a heavy sigh, she sauntered over, because that was definitely not just a walk, and got into a similar ready position. She had good form, he noted. With a quick jab, Ben took the offensive and watched as Rey danced around away from his blows. She wasn’t really trying to fight back; she was really just evading his throws as he followed her around the training room. To be fair, he wasn’t trying very hard to hit her, and he more or less just wanted to see what she could do. She was smirking as she eluded his throws and kicks until with a quick movement like a striking viper, she grabbed his out stretched arm, twisted it upwards, and climbed onto his back like some sort of monkey. Suddenly he was very violently falling forwards and the next thing he knew his arm was being wrenched painfully in an armbar on the ground. Her thighs were pressing on the sides of his neck and he began to feel a popping sensation behind his eyes. He tapped her leg to signal his submission and the pressure released just as quickly.

Rey stood up and held a hand to offer him assistance, but he ignored it and rotated his sore arm. He looked up at her with less amusement than before. “That was a lucky move. I wasn’t really trying very hard. Again.” He got back up and got into a more purposeful stance.

“Of course,” she sniffed. “By all means then, _please_ teach me.”

This time he was all aggression, no more testing her strengths. He threw everything he had at her and she seemed to be dancing backwards with less ease. He looked for any weaknesses in her form and tried to exploit them. He was definitely keeping her on her toes when suddenly his arm was pulled behind his back and he was being spun around with surprising strength until a blow to his neck brought his entire body to the ground, the force of the impact winding him. He felt a foot then on his neck and he looked up at her from the ground to see her glaring at him.

“If you were trying to test me, I think you’ll find I’m perfectly capable of handling myself against big, stupid arseholes. Now when you’re quite done pulling your head from your arse, come find me.” She turned then and he felt the pressure release from his throat as she walked out. He rubbed his neck, knowing that a bruise was going to form there and stood up.

After showering he finally went back to his desk and pulled out the folder that he’d unceremoniously shoved into the drawer the prior day. He flipped through the pages of her profile, a picture of her clipped to the front. She wasn’t smiling in the photo and she looked even younger than she did now. She had an impressive dossier; she was a fourth degree black-belt in Krav Maga, and held varying degrees of expertise in other forms of hand to hand combat, which explained her fighting style. She was also fluent in several languages, possessed a background in medical training, and her marksmanship scores were only slightly lower than his own. He glanced back at the birthdate and saw that she was only twenty-three. His eyes widened and he went into his uncle’s office without preamble.

He threw the file down on Luke’s desk and said with a snarl, “She’s a fucking child recruit?”

His uncle peered up at him with a look that bordered on amused but mostly looked irritated at the intrusion. “Well hello, Ben. Why yes, I would love for you to storm into my office and throw papers on my desk with no context.”

“Cut the shit,” Ben replied, “I thought MI6 discontinued that program after the Cold War ended.”

“…They did. Or at least they were supposed to, but it looks like your girl was one of the final novices,” Luke replied dryly.

“She’s _not_ my girl,” Ben said a little too quickly and regretted his words almost immediately. His uncle steepled his fingers and sighed heavily as he gave a long look at Ben.

“Perhaps I should assign a different officer to this operation,” Luke said finally, “You seem to be having trouble keeping your emotions out of your work and we can’t risk another incident.” This hit the panic button inside of Ben and quelled his volatile outburst. Upon seeing this Luke smiled and continued, “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m nearly late for a conference call with the White House.”

Ben shoved his hands into his pockets at the dismissal and stalked out like a moody teenager. He had known she was young and green, but he didn’t think she had been _that_ young. No one could justifiably say that Ben Solo was _soft,_ but he harbored a deep hatred for the programs that boasted of taking children, usually the most vulnerable ones, and turning them into nothing but mindless drones for the black ops. It probably stemmed back from his own childhood; even though he hadn’t been kidnapped and brainwashed by a foreign government, he’d been in and out of combat training from an early age and groomed by his father and his uncle to be…whatever he was now. An officer? A patriot? He didn’t really think of what he did in those terms. Why did thinking about what she must have gone through make him feel….bad?

* * *

He found her again later that day after asking around. She’d gone to the gun range and when he came upon her, he tried to observe her unseen as long as possible. She had a determined look on her face that made the space between her brows crinkle. He came up behind her and she set the black pistol down and took off her headgear without looking at him.

“What do you want?”

He cleared his throat and looked at her target. She hadn’t hit the vital organs on the dummy, but had shot quite a bit….lower. Ouch. “You-you missed.”

“No. I didn’t,” she replied with a hard edge to her tone. “Again, what do you want?”

This part shouldn’t be that hard for him, but he found himself running his hand through his hair anyway. “I, uh…I didn’t really handle our first meeting very well. And I didn’t look at your file.”

“I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘I’m sorry’,” she chided, rolling her eyes and turning to look at him with arms crossed. “But please continue with the obvious.”

“Fine. I’m sorry; I didn’t take you seriously and…I’m sorry,” the second time he’d said it was more sincere and she softened.

“You’re not the first to underestimate me,” Rey replied, “but if we’re going to work together, I suppose we shouldn’t be constantly jumping at each other’s throats. Might be…counterproductive…So. Partners?” She held her hand out to him and he looked at it. He had to repress a stray thought of that hand on his….He took her small hand in his own and gave a swift shake before retracting it. He hoped that he was able to keep his thoughts off of his face.

“Partners.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been doing quite a bit of writing on this one as we face self-isolation. So hopefully I should have some more updates pretty quickly. I figured I'd update it now though :)

Ben was finally going back in the field after a month of listening to chatter and trying to piece together a lead on this mission. Luke had briefed them the morning after he had made the truce with Rey; Langley and MI6 had both picked up chatter about a possible nuclear deal being set up by the underground ring, the First Order. But that’s all the Luke had currently, chatter. There were no promising leads and Ben knew that it could only mean hours and hours of listening to radio static in hopes of decoding something useable. MI6 had of course jumped on the same leads and when the two organizations had realized the potential for collaboration, they had opted to pool resources to strengthen the bonds of alliance. Hence, Rey.

So, the two of them had spent the following weeks secluded together in a soundproof room at CIA Headquarters, each slowly churning out a report of their findings and then sharing notes like children with a school project at the end of the day.

He had started to learn things about his new partner as they continued in their newfound isolation. Nothing truly earth-shattering, but small things. She chewed on her pens. She didn’t drink coffee but took tea with a spoon of honey (very British of her, he noted). She couldn’t go more than a few hours without finding something to eat. She didn’t smoke and had wrinkled her nose at him when he’d come back in smelling like cigarettes. For some reason he couldn’t explain he’d begun to cut back after that. Rey always sneezed exactly twice, and once he noticed Ben had begun to pause waiting for that second sneeze before uttering a polite “Bless you.”

She had looked at him the first time he’d said it and nodded with a quick “Thank you”.

Whenever Rey found something particularly good, her smile would light up and she would have a feverish excitement as she furiously jotted down whatever little tidbit she had heard.

Finally, they had assembled enough pieces of the puzzle to approach Luke about taking his out of Langley and into the field where it belonged. Where he belonged. He looked through their notes and the requisition of field equipment and resources and nodded his assent.

“So, you’ll be travelling to France to gain access to this…” Luke started, rifling through the carefully prepared stack of notes that Rey had compiled. She had spent several hours poring over his hastily scribbled notes, and her own more organized thoughts. It was very…academic, Ben thought absently.

“Mandalorian,” Rey finished for him. “We don’t have his identity, but we’re hoping that we can make contact. He has ties with the First Order, and likely information on who they’re trying to sell arms to as well. We’ll have to go undercover of course.” There was a certain amount of glee in the statement that reminded Ben of some of his first days in the field. Rey was incredibly intelligent and really a poet in hand to hand and armed combat, but it was things like this that brought back to him how truly _green_ she was at times.

“Of course,” Luke agreed. “Do you have a strategy yet?”

This was where Ben interjected. When Rey had finished assembling her presentation, he had already been miles ahead into the particulars. He may not be quite as skilled in combat as Rey (not to say he wasn’t a deadly fighter in his own right), but the mind and the skills to slip into someone else’s identity and skin was one of the areas where he was unmatched at Langley. “We’ll be posing as husband and wife. Newlyweds. To help avoid detection while in France.” He added the last statement as a qualifier as Rey gave him a small inscrutable look.

“Sound reasoning,” his uncle replied, “Continue.”

“Our covers will only get us into the country though. We’ll likely need to tap into hotel security and spend at least a week or more gathering intel and then…we’ll try to make contact. If all goes well that should lead us to the next steps of the operation.”

“Excellent. Now, I don’t think I need to remind either of you that this is _covert_. Intelligence only, you do not have clearance to engage, is that understood?” The pair nodded almost in unison. “The last thing I need is Interpol riding my ass again. If the time comes, you’ll know when you can take more…assertive measures. Agent Niima, I presume you’ll be informing your superiors of this?”

“Yes, sir,” Rey replied, and Luke gave her a curt nod, dismissing them from the office.

“We’re going to need to work together to develop our profiles,” Ben said as the pair walked back to the secluded room. “You’ve done this before, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Rey replied, “At the academy.” He did his best to resist the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. That would probably only end in a flare in Rey’s temper and an end to the uneasy peace between them. He couldn’t afford that so close to finally escaping this cement hellhole that they called headquarters.

“So, you’ll want to go speak with our Requisitions Department and get anything you’ll need from them. We won’t be able to take any of it with us, but it should be all set up when we arrive,” he told her, rattling off the procedure. She nodded and he looked at her with something bordering on fondness for an instant and then it was gone, and his mind was back to business.

* * *

“I’ve put together our covers for getting into France,” Ben said to her some hours later. She’d been gone to Requisitions for a long time, following his advice and ordering her equipment. “I’ll be taking lead on this part of the assignment.” He slid the files towards her, and she caught them with easy reflex.

“So, you’re an attorney and I’m…what, exactly?” Rey asked, leaning back in her chair so that it balanced precariously on two legs. She was thumbing through the profiles he’d put together for their fake identities.

“My loving new wife, lovely and… dutiful,” he replied causing her to roll her eyes visibly.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Rey pivoted the chair deftly and then used the momentum to stand up and then she was in close proximity to him. “So, say I agree to these profiles-“

“There is no agreement; they are expertly crafted from my years of experience in the field but go on.” She was leaning over his chair now, her hands gripping the arm rests as she invaded his space.

“Say I agree,” she continued, “What exactly is this going to entail, Mr. Expert?” She was inches from his face and clearly knew the effect she was having as he felt her warm breath on his skin. She was smirking at his reaction. When he was in character, Kylo Ren was a master at the art of slipping into a mask of himself, but Ben Solo on the other hand…was not. What was it the staff psychologist had called it during his evaluation? Compartmentalization?

“Well, obviously we’re going to need to be comfortable with being…. intimate….in public,” he started, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I don’t think we’ll have a problem with that part,” she retorted. She still wasn’t backing up or backing down.

“Except,” he breathed, and his gaze turned serious, “It won’t be us. It will be Samuel and Alicia Johnson. And they love each other. Can you act like you’re in love, Rey?”

This caught her off guard for just a moment, the barest glimpse of apprehension shining through. He continued, “You can shoot your gun and you can kill people with your bare hands; you might even be better than me at some of that” she scoffed at his comment, “but this kind of field work requires a little more _finesse_ , than that. There are no second chances, there is no room for error. If you miss your first shot with a gun, you always have another in the chamber. Not here. So, can you do this and follow my lead or not?” He was standing now, encroaching on her as a heat filled his veins.

She maintained the eye contact, toe to toe with his towering form. “I’ll do anything necessary.” He could feel the electricity sparking between them as she responded to the challenge.

_Bang, bang, bang!_ He shouldn’t be surprised by the knock on the door, but somehow his heart was racing. “Come in,” he called out and stepped away from Rey. In walked a young man, skin the color of coffee.

“Sir, I have the analysis you asked for,” the young man said, holding a set of documents under his arm.

“Thank you…” he trailed off, trying to remember the man’s name as he took the analysis from him. He was new, and Ben didn’t usually bother to learn anyone’s actual names, preferring to go by their employee numbers. But calling this person “2187” might come off as unseemly.

“Finn,” Rey supplied, and the young man perked up at her notice. “He helped me with some of the more difficult translations.” She looked at _Finn_ with an easy smile that Ben didn’t actually think she was capable of producing. Rey was always hard edges and rough looks with him, despite their armistice Why should it bother him that she could actually be friendly when her attention was devoted to someone else?

“Thank you…Finn,” Ben supplied, and the young man nodded with reverence to him and a smile at Rey before leaving. Ben turned back to her, the taut friction between them now at a low simmer. He shuffled the papers and cleared his throat. “Anyway, we don’t have much time to get this right; we’ll be leaving in a couple of days. Get your picture taken for passports when you finalize your cover. I imagine you can improvise?”

“Yeah,” Rey was short in her answer and turned to go without another word.

* * *

“Mr. & Mrs. Johnson?” the boarding attendant called them up to the front and Rey stood up quickly. Blonde hair was piled into a high ponytail and her normally detached demeanor was replaced by one of bubbly cheerfulness. She played the part of a smitten housewife well. When he’d first seen her in this guise, he’d had to control himself; saying that she looked _good_ as a blonde was an understatement.

“Oh, honey, that’s us,” she crooned in a remarkable American accent, and was grabbing Ben’s hand fervently as she hastened up to the counter. He pretended to be pulled along by the antics of his silly wife and then they were standing there, looking absolutely and downright sickeningly in love.

Ben spontaneously pulled her in for a kiss and Rey, playing the role so well, leaned into it. He could see she was only acting the part of Mrs. Alicia Johnson, the dutiful and loving new bride, but as the kiss deepened, he could almost feel something like Rey underneath. Where Alicia was all vivaciousness and vapid charm, Rey was the slick edge of a fresh blade. Because of the façade that slipped from her, just for a moment he forgot that he was Mr. Samuel Johnson, an attorney with a new wife to please, and let himself be Ben Solo. His hands tightened imperceptibly on her waist and then the moment was over. He needed to maintain his professionalism but being around her made that…difficult.

The airline clerk let out a dreamy little sigh as Rey pulled back to nuzzle on his nose. She cleared her throat then to bring herself back to reality. “I can spot newlyweds a mile away,” she said to them, and with a conspiratorial whisper, “It’s my favorite part of this job to be honest. Two seats just opened up in our business class section and as a thank you from the airline, we’re upgrading you two.”

“Do you hear that Sammy,” Rey, or rather Alicia, cooed. “Isn’t this just so romantic?”

“The perfect start to a perfect honeymoon, kitten,” he said, running his fingers over her face. She nearly broke character at this pet name and something flashed in her eyes for just a moment. Sure, they had, after Rey cooled off, spent hours to develop their final cover together, nearly all of the details falling into place easily, but a profile will only get you so far. The small things and throwing oneself headlong into someone else’s life while still trying to keep your eyes on the mission were skills that took a long while to train into recruits, and Ben just hoped that the small bits of Rey that peeked through her disguise wouldn’t end with her dead one day. At least here they only had to fool a silly airline attendant and not a target.

The encounter ended, they were on the plane and they sat in their upgraded seats not speaking to one another for a long while.

Finally, after it appeared that they were alone, or at least as alone as one could be on a crowded flight, she turned to him, dropping character completely. “Kitten? Really?”

He shrugged, “It was the first thing I could think of. Would you prefer something different? Baby? Dearest? _Sweetheart?_ ” He said the last with a look that he knew he’d inherited from his father and leaned closer. Rey, no longer trying to pretend, instinctively moved backwards from him. He snorted at her recoil. “So, tricking me into meaningless sex doesn’t bother you, but pet names do? Interesting. I didn’t expect you to be this…. prissy.”

“Oh, shut up,” she replied moodily under her breath and turned away again. Neither of them had packed their own forms of entertainment; they would do nothing that could jeopardize their cover, even though as Ben had said this was the _easy_ part. Now they just sat in a pensive silence and Ben felt his hand drift over to find hers, interlacing their fingers. She nearly stiffened at the touch, and he leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“We don’t have to sit in silence, you know.” He didn’t know where this was coming from but having her on edge now in comparison to her usual put together and in control demeanor had made him brave. To anyone watching from the outside his touch would seem like a loving caress. “It’s a long flight. Besides, might be good for…appearances.”

Rey dug her nails painfully into the back of his hands and he took that as a no. He shrugged once more and leaned back in his seat. He hadn’t really expected her to say yes, and probably wouldn’t have followed through if she had, but it felt good to get his own back for once and he smirked.

* * *

True to his word, it _was_ a long flight. Nearly nine hours on that cramped plane had both of them jetlagged and irritable as they finally touched down at Charles De Gaulle Airport. Rey didn’t need to put as much effort into the ruse under these conditions, but Ben noticed that she did at least try to seem more cheerful.

They unloaded their suitcases from the conveyor, both generic and boring enough to fool anyone who might be watching them arrive. Of course, the suitcases they had left Dulles Airport with were not the same that they had now, courtesy of the CIA. With a practiced effortlessness, Ben took his in hand and even held out a hand to Rey who fawned over her fake husband’s chivalry but declined the offer. He hailed a cab and they both collapsed on the seats while Rey gave directions in near perfect French.

When they finally arrived at their hotel near eleven at night Central European time, they felt slightly more awake at least. This was likely because it was only six pm back home. Ben checked in, making sure to bring Rey in for a little squeeze as the desk clerk looked on with feigned politeness. As they burst into the small hotel room, the façade was completely dropped on Rey’s part and she went to the bed and threw herself down. Ben flipped the switch and illuminated the room. Rey rolled over and examined the surroundings and then as if just realizing something important looked up at him quickly. He quirked an eyebrow, but she was tight lipped, and her face was set in a way as if trying to do a particularly difficult calculus equation while blindfolded. There was only one bed.

Of course, _he’d_ known this. After all they couldn’t exactly masquerade as a newly married couple in a room with two beds. But perhaps Rey had only briefly skimmed the hotel reservation or had been too caught up in the first-time jitters and the logistics of what they were here to accomplish to really give much thought to their sleeping arrangements. As it was, he could sense a new tension in her at this. He wanted to laugh a bit at this new shyness and commented as much which he was rewarded by with a glare.

“I never really _do_ the whole…sleeping together thing,” she sniffed. “It’s too messy. People start having expectations.” There were several things about her that were _messy_ that Ben could list but refrained.

“I can take the floor if you’d be more comfortable,” he replied, wondering where this newfound gallantry came from.

He hadn’t expected her to take it as a challenge, but ultimately it didn’t surprise him given what he did know about Rey. She colored at his suggestion and then countered, “No, we both need to be sharp for this.”

He relented. The thought of actually waking up next to her wasn’t _unappealing_ to him, even if he didn’t plan on making a habit of their prior shared activities. Ben watched her as she peeled the wig off of her head and the wig cap with it. Her hair was braided tightly to her head and when she undid it, it fell in crisp waves about her shoulders. She looked somehow simultaneously younger and less at ease now that she didn’t have the guise of a professional operative or a cover to hide behind. She was just _Rey._ He wondered what she did in her spare time. He’d never asked, and he didn’t think she would have told him before even if he did. But now that they were here and there was so much on the line, there were parts of her that he needed to know so they could effectively carryout this part of things. Or at least that’s what he convinced himself so he wouldn’t have to face the real part that genuinely _wanted_ to know. She began to peel the layers of her clothing off, first the blouse and then the skirt, leaving nothing but a camisole and the little underwear that hugged her hips.

“You’re staring,” she remarked, not bothering to glance at him and he looked away quickly.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and she lifted the covers to bury herself in their downy weight. “So why are you even in this business?” Ben asked casually, trying to change the subject. It was a question that he’d thought about in the long hours of seclusion with her, as he tried to puzzle this girl out, but never actually vocalized. Some part of him longed for the answer, another part could feel himself slipping in too deep.

“What are you doing?” Rey asked, a hard edge to her voice.

“What do you mean, what am I doing?” He didn’t bother to give a real answer, merely responding with a question.

“I mean, what are you doing? You know what I’m asking. We’re partners, Ben, not friends. If you’re lonely and looking for a screw, trust me I understand, but _this_ ,” she gestured to the space between them, “it’s not something we do. You know that, surely.”

He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes, the barriers slamming shut between them and the truce that they had called teetering on a knife’s edge. “Yes, we’re partners, and that means we need to- to trust each other. With our lives. I’m just trying to figure you out.” God, why was he doing this? This was stupid, incredibly stupid, and he’d been able to keep himself alive this long only because he never did anything like this.

“What do you know about trust?” she sneered, “What does anyone in this life know about trust? Pretty words, Ben, but we both know the only thing either of us trust is that we’d turn on each other the second the order came down.” Out of the two of them, she was the only one playing by the rules, and Ben knew it. He should drop it, but somehow, he just couldn’t.

“I wouldn’t.” He surprised himself with the honesty of the answer. The words had slipped out before he could stop himself.

“Then you’re a fool.”

The clear end to the conversation for the night silenced him, and he watched as Rey turned over on the bed to pointedly ignore him. Ben sighed and went to the bathroom, splashing water onto his face. He shouldn’t be trying to connect with her. She was just someone that he worked with and even that was a passing thing in this life. She had been right of course. He wasn’t supposed to trust her or even want to; they were supposed to be like two ships passing in the night to each other. Maybe he was just feeling lonely after ten years in the business, maybe he was desperate for more than just the fleeting glimpses of human connection he could glean from the occasional one-night stand, or maybe he was actually starting to feel something. Part of him wanted to rail against it. Because feeling this way was dangerous, for both of them. Love, even the faint stirrings of it, was as good as a death sentence in this game.

When he came back to the bed, clad in his boxers and a t-shirt, Rey was asleep, or at least pretending that she was. He silently slid under the sheets next to her, feeling her slightly heat radiate through the space between them. He could reach over and touch her right now, if he wanted to, and she might even reward him for it. But after staring into his own eyes, now filled with a doubt and uncertainty that he’d never possessed up to this point, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. So, he resolved to turn over, his back to her, and shove all of those thoughts and feelings into a box in his mind where he could pretend that they didn’t exist.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me longer than I anticipated, but here you go. Have this hella long chapter.

He woke up the next morning and she was already getting around. She had noticed him stir but didn’t bother to comment. She didn’t have her wig on yet and was walking around in just a bra and underwear. He propped himself on his elbows and watched her flit around, unconcerned by his gaze.

“So, husband,” she said, adopting the American accent once more, “Where will you be taking your wife today?”

He snorted at her show of humor. It didn’t appear that she was going to comment on their last conversation, and in the light of day, neither was he. “Well, _wife_ , I thought perhaps we would get our surveillance rigged up and start figuring out our plan for first contact.”

He got up and stretched, groaning loudly as his back popped audibly. When he turned his attention back to Rey, he noticed that she was looking at him in just his boxers and his shirt. “You’re staring.”

She huffed and turned away from him and he had to mask the smug look on his face. Part of him enjoyed this game of passive aggressive softball that they were playing with each other, but another part wanted to actually talk with her without the walls they’d constructed between each other.

“So, what’s your plan?” She seemed genuinely curious.

“Well, from what we’ve already gathered, our target is going to be spending time at Canto Bight. We don’t have enough information to make contact _yet_ , but with a little luck we can tap into their security network. From there we can track his movements and figure out his patterns.”

“But, won’t it be a closed circuit?” Rey probed, a little divot between her brows. “We’d have to infiltrate it in person to be able to get remote access.”

“Precisely,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards.

She looked at him with a level of mischief in her eyes at the statement. Whatever he was going to suggest, he already knew she was on board.

* * *

It didn’t take them long to find their way to the Canto Bight Casino. Despite the glittering halls, and lavish appearances, it was really no better than some of the cartel bars that Ben had frequented in South America, Mos Eisely in Bogota coming to mind. At least those bars had the courtesy of being honest about their less than honorable intentions. Canto Bight was a den of thieves and murderers masquerading as the higher echelons of society in the gaudiest display.

Ben could recognize some of the faces in the halls as they entered, flashes from briefings that he’d attended, but he didn’t have time to think of that now when they had a task already at hand. Their disguises would help them through this bit as he infiltrated the closed-circuit security room. MI6 had been generous enough to send them the building plans to the casino, dredged up no doubt from some dusty, hidden bureaucratic spider web.

With that in mind, Ben knew exactly where he needed to go, but just had to put the steps in place to get there. That was where Rey came in. He’d explained his plan to her, and she’d let out a derisive noise at her role.

“It’s your first undercover operation, I thought you’d be glad to be so integral to our success,” he’d goaded her, and she had glared at him.

“Not as the bait,” she replied testily.

“What happened to ‘I’ll do anything necessary’?” Ben pressed and stared her down. “This _is_ necessary. You’ll have plenty of time to be the big hero someday, but today, I need you to distract them so I can get in and get what we need.”

“Fine.” The answer was huffed out and he began to detail the next steps for her.

Now here she was, dressed like a silly American tourist and acting the part of one rather well. She would pretend to get lost and that would give him an excuse to come find her. She wandered off in search of a bathroom and he knew that was his cue. He let her go and casually glanced at his watch. He’d follow after in five minutes.

Those five minutes passed with a nearly painful slowness and he tried to school himself from looking nervous or out of place as she pretended to fidget with a slot machine. Finally, it was time and he breathed a quick sigh of relief as he made his way into the nest of tangled hallways that formed a protective cocoon around the gamblers.

As he made his way in the direction Rey had disappeared from, noise became evident and he knew exactly where to find her. He tried to swallow the exasperation in his chest as he heard the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle. What was she doing? He’d asked her to _distract_ them, not blow their whole goddamned cover. He came upon the scene and found a security guard wrestling with a struggling Rey, or Alicia as the case may be, and swearing loudly.

“Madame, you’ll need to go back to the main floor, this area is strictly off limits,” he said, carrying her bodily.

“I said, unhand me!” she cried out and bit at the hand carrying her. Another loud swear in French and she was being tossed to the ground. Ben saw his opportunity and ran over.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he blustered, affecting the conceited air of Samuel Johnson.

Rey stood up quickly from the ground and ran into his arms, burying her face into his chest with little sobs.

“Sir, you and your…”

“My wife,” he offered, pulling Rey in protectively. He felt her hand go under his jacket and slip something into his inside pocket.

“You and your wife will need to go back to the main floor. I have already tried to communicate this to the lady. If you do not comply, we will have no choice, sir, but to remove you from the premises,” the guard relayed, his French accent highlighted by annoyance.

“No need,” Ben replied in a huff and pulled Rey around to make a show of storming off. “I refuse to be disrespected further by your _establishment._ ”

Rey was flush with excitement when they got onto the street, but Ben quieted her until they made it back to their hotel room, serving as a makeshift home base. She came alive in a dazzling flash of teeth as he extracted the security keycard that she’d swiped from the struggling guard. Given what they did know of Canto Bight’s security, it wouldn’t be valid for long, but Ben wouldn’t need much time to slip back in and create a backdoor in their camera network. The pair in the aftermath of adrenaline and dopamine that always accompanied success on a mission, didn’t notice their close proximity. At least at first. Suddenly, hyperaware of her clinging to his arm he looked into those big hazel eyes. The happiness that had engulfed them clouded over as her face dropped back into a mask of cold indifference. She stepped away from him and he cleared his throat.

“I’ll start preparing to go back tonight,” he said, re-pocketing the access card.

* * *

Going back to Canto Bight was easy. Almost too easy really and he rolled his eyes at the frankly laughable security measures in place. Sure, they cycled their keycodes, but he’d thought that _maybe_ getting in might actually be a challenge for him. Given the clientele they served, Ben suspected that perhaps that lack of security was on purpose. It made it easier to delete any unfortunate or compromising footage recorded on its grounds. Either way, he thought his talents as a black ops officer were truly wasted when he stole back into the building in the dead of night. _What is this amateur hour?_ He though wryly as he found the security station guarded by a single stray employee. He made quick work of subduing the man and then planted his flash drive into the side of the security hub. The program on it quickly ran through the motions and without further ado, he had gained backdoor administrative access to the network. Another couple of clicks and he was broadcasting that access to the remote entry point on Rey’s computer.

The next week was spent largely holed up in the hotel room with her. She grew accustomed to the sleeping arrangement, but Ben found it increasingly more frustrating. Especially when she began to migrate closer to him in her slumber. He’d wake in the dead hours of the night to find her pressed against his back, her warm breath tickling between his shoulder blades. They’d never speak of it in the light of day, or at least Rey wouldn’t hear of it. Ben found himself recounting their first and only real encounter together; how she’d come into his apartment and pushed him against the wall. It had been like a battle of wills that night. Now it was just him battling his own sense of professionalism and duty each night.

Each night they would collect more breadcrumbs from the various casino cameras, and each day they would puzzle out what it meant. They’d barely break for meals, preferring to get room service. Neither were worried about this looking suspicious; their cover supplied a ready enough alibi for their contentment to enjoy the comforts of the hotel room. They didn’t have an unlimited supply of time and finally the time came to make a move. The only problem was that it became increasingly apparent that Rey would need to take the helm. Alone.

All of the clues they’d compiled had led them to this inevitability, but Ben wanted to fight when they’d finally drawn the conclusion. She was _too_ green, _too_ new to this game of cat and mouse, _too_ ….precious. No, he had to stop thinking of it in those terms. Rey was a fully-fledged agent of MI6 in her own right, and she was his partner, an equal in this operation. In addition, she was an anonymous pretty face, whereas he might attract more attention with his imposing frame. But as they finally decided on having her be the one to initiate contact with the Mandalorian, Ben wished he could be with her.

“You’re not ready,” he had said curtly, “You’ll break character if you’re by yourself, and then… I won’t be far away in any case, but I might not reach you in enough time. It’s too dangerous.”

“Isn’t that why we have the comm lines open the whole time?” she had chided him, unimpressed by what she must assume to be doubt of her experience. “Ben, I can do this. This is…much more in my area of expertise than pretending to be some insipid housewife.”

He had sucked in a breath, still not wanting to let her go through with the plan, and desperately tried to find reasons that _he_ should be the one to go, with no luck. She had merely continued, “Besides, you’re the expert profiler. You tell me what our other options are. From what we’ve gathered, he’s a wealthy gambler, he is incredibly distrustful of blokes, and he has a different expensive escort on his arm every time we’ve tracked him. I’m the only one who can do this.” She was right. He knew she was right and that was worse.

“Fine, but you need to do everything I tell you,” he had finally conceded and tried to ignore the excited energy that she exuded. This wasn’t a game and he wished that she could see that. “Rey, can you do that?”

“Yes, yes,” she had waved dismissively, still too caught up in her first mission enthusiasm.

Now that she was standing in front of him, dressed in a beautiful floor length gown that plunged nearly to her belly button and a slit that extended far up her thigh, he had to admit that she might actually be able to pull this off.

“What do you think?” she had asked from lips the color of roses. She had looked up at him under dark lashes, her hazel eyes peering out from the dark, smoky makeup that lined them, and he had nearly felt his heart stop beating. She was close to him, too close for comfort, and he had to fight the urge to pull her to him. They were on the job, and it had to take precedence.

“You’ll do,” he had replied, trying to keep his answers as monosyllabic as possible. “Now come here and hold still.” He waved for her to turn and lifted a lock of her hair away from her ear. She let out a little shudder then as his breath caressed her neck. After that little betrayal of her body, she was still as a statue as he inserted the small wand into her ear canal. He was slow and gentle as he probed for resistance and finding it, clicked the dispenser to attach the nano-communicator to her ear drum.

“Can you hear me?” he tested the microphone that he had hidden on his lapel, and she rolled her eyes. She had already affixed her own microphone and camera on a dummy necklace that sat low on her collarbone. He tried not to look too long lest his eyes begin to travel downwards.

“Yes, I can,” she said with impatience. “Now are we going or not?”

“Of course,” he said into her ear and then she flinched noticeably as a screeching noise could be heard. She glared at him as she tried to rub the feedback out of her ear and sent a deft punch to his shoulder. It didn’t hurt…much.

“You did that on purpose.” Her tone was an accusation, and he didn’t try to deny it. He merely smirked.

“Just trying to make sure you stay focused.”

“Well I won’t be able to bloody well focus if you keep that up,” she replied.

“Okay, okay,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, “Now do you remember the plan?”  
  


“Of course,” she sniffed. He looked at her meaningfully and she let out a frustrated huff. “We go separately, I find a way to rendezvous with the subject while you observe from a distance, then when I can, I get him alone and plant the bug. Then we should be able to get more information on his dealings with the First Order and go from there.” She waited for him to confirm her accuracy and he gave a small nod.

“And if he even so much as suspects that something is out of the ordinary?” Ben pressed.

“I leave. I do not engage because that would jeopardize the future of the operation,” she recited mechanically.

“Hey,” he said seriously, and grasped her arm to draw in closer, “Not just the operation. We don’t get far if you end up dead. This isn’t fun, Rey, this is work. Remember that.”

“I know,” she said tersely, and wrenched herself free of him. He dropped his arm and collected himself. He should take his own advice; his conduct bordered on unprofessional. He consciously backed up from her and she turned away. He noticed that the back of the dress was nonexistent until it met the small of her back. He could see the delicate line of her spine and wanted to bring a finger to stroke it but held himself back if only just. Knowing what was under the tight contours of the dress didn’t help him at all.

“I’ll be going then,” she said, and he nodded. She left the room, swathing herself first in a coat, and he settled on the bed. He buried his face in his hands as silently as possible. He was absolutely fucked, and at this point, he wasn’t sure if there was anything he could do to fix it. The only thing he really had in his power was to keep it under control, for both of their sakes.

He looked at his watch and saw that the requisite amount of time had passed and left as well. He put on a pair of glasses that had an integrated display linked to Rey’s camera. She was walking and he could hear her the clack of her heels in his ear as she hailed a cab. So far, so good.

He came downstairs himself and pulled out the keys to the car that was waiting for him on the street. It was a bland looking sedan, but he didn’t need anything flashy right now. He adjusted his tie and hopped in before making his way to the Canto Bight Casino.

He could already see from Rey’s display that she had arrived, and he made his way in before settling at a table, some ways away from where she was seated at the bar. The entire place sparkled like a jewel and was loud with the raucous sounds of gambling. Now that she was without her coat, tossed in the coat check earlier with no plans to retrieve it, she blended in to the champagne atmosphere like a puzzle piece finding its groove. Ben pulled out his phone and pretended to be on a call as he whispered. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” she gritted out, just barely audible in her microphone. Ben scanned the room and his eyes lit up on their subject. He was a middling man, with an olive complexion and a smirking demeanor. He looked as if he thought the entire world was telling him a joke. From what they’d seen of him, he always stopped at the corner bar where Rey was currently perched and ordered the same drink each night. Humans were silly creatures of habit, even ones as dangerous as him.

“He’s headed your way,” Ben said, waving off a cocktail waitress who sniffed in response. “Look bored, you’re good at that.” He wondered if Rey might have huffed at this, and he could tell from the way she stiffened in his display, the little camera bobbing at the slight movement, that she probably would have told him to shut up again.

Rey sighed and stirred her gin and tonic in a way not totally dissimilar he noted to the night that they’d first met. She’d ordered an actual drink, which if nothing else might bolster her confidence in this first meeting. He just hoped that she knew when to stop so she wouldn’t trade the fine acuity of her skills for the false security that alcohol promised. He swallowed the small indignation that bubbled inside him of the thought of her on their target’s arm. He needed to focus.

Like the most enticing honey pot she drew more than just the Mandalorian to her and had the forethought to seem elusive. He listened to her flirt and let down the couple of men who approached her and tried to not let it dent his pride too much. Her methods were _too_ familiar for his own comfort.

Finally, she was approached by the one person that they were hoping for. She wasn’t his usual catch of the night, blonde hair and buxom curves. He wondered for a moment if she should have worn Alicia Johnson’s honeyed wig, but she’d molded herself into as close as she could approximate with her own features, and tonight that appeared to be enough.

At first, the Mandalorian didn’t take notice of her but as his eyes roamed the floor she was caught in his crosshairs. He strutted over, presenting himself to her for inspection before speaking.

“All the glittering lights of this place, and yet the most precious jewels are not made of stone, but of flesh,” the target said. “Please, let me buy you a drink.”

“Flirt with him, but play hard to get,” Ben urged, “He needs to want to take you with him.”

“I already have a drink,” Rey replied, shaking her glass under his nose. “If you hadn’t noticed.”

“Good,” Ben breathed. “Keep it up.”

“Perhaps, not a jewel then, instead a rose. Beautiful, but surrounded by dangerous thorns.”

“Please, if you wanted to sleep with me, all you had to do was ask,” she scoffed sardonically, then with a softer tone as she placed her hand on his forearm, “You’re attracted to me, we both know you’re attractive. We’re attracted to each other, so let’s cut the bullshit and get to the good stuff.” Ben tried to contain his irritation at her use of _his_ line and swallowed the growl that was building inside of him.

“Okay, wrap it up; we don’t have much time,” was all he could muster.

The Mandalorian laughed at her and then took Rey’s hand, kissing it softly. “I’ve never known a woman to be so…forward before. I’m blushing.”

Ben saw Rey extend her arm out and let out a coquettish giggle. “Well, if you want, I could help you do more than blush.”

“Don’t lay it on too thick,” Ben coached. “We don’t want to scare him away.”

“I’m sorely tempted to take you up on that offer,” the Mandalorian replied and leaned in to her. “But you see, I do have business to attend to tonight.”

“We don’t have another shot at this,” Ben murmured into the microphone. “You need to close this and _fast_.”

Rey let out a little mewling complaint in response, and replied, “Oh, business. Such a serious man. Are you sure it can’t wait just a _little_ while longer?” She stood from her perch on the barstool, gathering herself into the man’s space, and Ben could see their mark's resolve breaking from behind the camera. Rey waited, letting the silence grow between them before finally continuing, “If not, I understand.” She drained her drink and set it on the bar unceremoniously. Ben’s heart was hammering. What was she doing? She was going to let their target walk away. Rey even started to stalk away from the situation herself, the seconds ticking by in a maddeningly slow fashion, when suddenly.

“Wait,” the man called, and Rey slowly turned without a word. “I’m sure my associate will…understand.”

Ben observed as silently as he could as Rey let herself be led by the hand to a crowded elevator and wanted to shut off his comm feed as he can hear her kiss the man. He knew that it was all part of the act, and if she was anyone else maybe he wouldn’t be so bothered. But this is Rey, and the Cro-Magnon part of his brain won’t shut up tonight. His stomach was in knots regardless. He watched as she followed behind the man, another stray giggle escaping her, and slipped into his suite.

“Okay, now you need to stay calm. This is the most crucial time,” Ben whispered into his microphone. “You’re alone now. You need to get him incapacitated and get the software on his phone.”

The Mandalorian came over and had a hungry look in his eye. Rey stepped forward with practiced ease and pressed an open hand to the side of his neck. Ben could see from her camera display the brief flicker of confusion steal over the Mandalorian, his hand clapping over Rey’s.

“Shh, you’re so tense,” she soothed him as she stroked his chest with fingers, and his body began to relax. She reached up to kiss him and he moved to step into her, but his body began to crumple before he got very far. She deftly moved him so he would fall onto the bed.

Ben started an internal countdown as the remifentanil took effect. “We don’t have long. Ten minutes at best with that dosage.”

“I know,” Rey gritted out, no longer ignoring him over the comm link. She capped the ring on her finger, covering the small injector, and began to paw at their target’s person. She sucked in an excited breath as she found his phone and pulled it out. She held it out over the Mandalorian’s face, and it unlocked. “You’d think they’d have much stronger encryption than facial recognition,” Rey scoffed.

“It’s probably just a temp; these guys don’t stick with one device for very long, so even though we’ll have a link in for now, we’ll have to hope he gives us something to work with before he burns this phone,” Ben explained as if to a child. “Now hurry it up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed and placed her necklace to the back of the phone. The screen blacked out for a moment as the script took root in the phone’s operating system. It would take them minutes of their precious time for the spyware to be effective and there was nothing that Ben could do to make the process go faster. Rey was probably feeling the pressure too, but from where she had the necklace angled, he could only see the way she nervously shuffled from foot to foot.

“Hey, breathe,” Ben soothed, “You’re doing great.”

“I know that,” Rey snapped quietly. “Are you getting the car?”

“Yeah,” Ben said, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Radio silence for now. I don’t want to draw attention to myself.” He heard a slight noise of assent from Rey and then stood up, tucking his phone into his jacket pocket. He took a quick look around; he had been so focused on Rey that he hadn’t been paying mind to the uneasy feeling in his gut. Now it was like a siren blaring in his mind. He didn’t have time to think of it now, though.

Ben made his way out to the parking garage just as Rey had finished up with the cell phone. She slipped it deftly back where she’d found it and then rearranged the man’s limbs on the bed, so it merely looked like he’d fallen asleep during their tryst. Rey stole a casual glance into the mirror in the suite and mussed her hair just enough to suggest a romp and then made a hasty exit, her dress billowing behind her as she glided in stilettos.

“I’m down in front, you can manage the rest?” Ben asked and she hummed her agreement to him. He wouldn’t truly be at ease until she was seated beside him. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, still casting glances about the surroundings. Something felt…off. He tried to attribute it to the ease with which they had executed this latest part of their plot, but couldn’t shake the feeling.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Rey piled into the car in a tangle of limbs, and there was something like excitement coming off of her as she reached to retrieve her gun from where he had stowed it earlier. Ben noticed that she had a habit of nervously clutching it when she high on emotion. Things did always seem a bit easier when you could speak with bullets. “We did it!”

He wanted to smile at her joy, and secretly he was proud of her, but he reigned in his own enthusiasm. This was her first undercover operation and she had done marvelously, but now was not the time for celebration. He pulled the car away from the curb and began the trek back to their hotel. Then suddenly, rehashing all of the uneasy feeling he’d had throughout the night, he caught something on the edges of his perception that was enough to send an icy chill down his spine. It was a final resolution to the feelings that had been plaguing him all night.

“Someone’s following us,” Ben said in a deathly quiet, staring into the rearview mirror. In response he could hear the click of her weapon as she cocked it. “Don’t,” the statement came out like a warning and he reached out a hand to cover hers, clenched around the grip of her gun. “We can’t afford to make a scene.”

As if on cue, a round pierced the back window of the car and Rey scowled. She gesticulated at the back window. “And this isn’t a fucking scene?”

Ben pressed on the gas then with no further delay as his senses went on an overdrive that rivaled the car, whipping the vehicle around a corner with a squeal of tires. “I’m going to try to get us out of this.” The car behind them accelerated in turn and was keeping pace easily, having anticipated a chase. Ben wove around several slower cars and only could spare a passing glance for a perpendicular lane of cross traffic. His heart was hammering even though he felt at home behind the wheel. The screaming of horns greeted them as several automobiles tried to jump out their path. They flew over the cobblestones of Paris as the engine roared. He checked his side mirror but cursed as a bullet shattered his view. Several more rounds flew through the back window, shattering it. Rey sunk downwards in her seat to avoid being in the direct line of fire.

“Can’t you go any faster?” she snarled looking over at him with an anger that was fraught with anxiety, and Ben pressed even further on the accelerator in response. The pedal was to the floor and the engine was already firing all cylinders, but there was only so fast that they could fly down the roads and still avoid getting trapped.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” His answer snapped at Rey.

“Fuck this,” she said hotly, and turned quickly with her pistol out the side window. A few bullets flew past her as Ben expertly kept the car in motion.

“What are you doing?” he roared at her as she poked her head out, in sight of the tailing car.

“Solving the problem!” she retorted. “Now drive!”

Ben let out a frustrated groan, but he didn’t have enough focus to be able to keep them from careening headlong into traffic and stop her from doing whatever the hell she wanted with her firearm. She shot a few rounds at their pursuers and then quickly ducked back in, but he could hear the bullets flying by, knocking out their other mirror. Ben took the car down a narrow alley then, the car behind them still in hot chase.

Rey focused out the back window rather than risking poking out again in the cramped confines of the backstreet. He could hear one of her bullets make contact and that thought at least comforted him. She turned back in her seat and ducked down before her eyes widened at the opening of the alleyway. “Ben!”

“Already on it,” he grunted, seeing the truck in the street. He had only a few moments and slammed the car to the right onto the sidewalk. Their followers were not quite so lucky, and he looked in the rearview to see them collide with the truck. His relief didn’t last very long as they heard a loud whine of smaller engines in pursuit. “Oh fuck.”

Two motorcycles edged the car, their tiny engines able to keep up easily with the hulking beast of a sedan they were hurtling down the old streets.

“Run them off the road,” Rey cried out, reaching for the steering wheel to jerk the car into one of the cyclists. They easily evaded this maneuver and then more bullets were flying into the car.

“Any more bright ideas?” Ben grit out through his teeth as he tried to gain control of the car again. The motorcyclists again came up to the windows and Ben was thankful that it was dark so they couldn’t see their faces very well.

“Yeah, a couple,” Rey whispered and popped another round out the window, barely missing Ben in the driver’s seat but catching the motorcyclist with enough force to throw him from his bike and send the bike veering off unmanned. She really was an artist with her weapon. The second rider was much better at evading Rey though, and the pair traded bullets, none of them hitting their mark. “Dammit, I can’t get a clear shot of the bastard.”

“I think I can help with that,” Ben remarked and then he was pressing the brake unexpectedly and cranking the wheel hard to pull the car into a sideways drift. Rey smirked as he put the gas back on to maintain the slanting motion. The motorcyclist seemed caught off guard by the sudden change in the car and was hurtling toward it at full speed. Rey used the opportunity to send a bullet straight into his helmet. She saw it go in and he fell like a ragdoll off the back end of the second bike. Ben pulled the steering wheel back to straighten them out and they both let out a whoop of exhilaration, smiles plastered on their faces as adrenaline coursed through their veins. Then suddenly another nondescript car plowed into their back end, slamming them around the cab.

“Another one?” Rey cried out, a hint of fear in her voice. Ben was already recovering from the collision. Luckily, the car was still drivable, and he slammed on the gas to put some distance between the newest addition to the fray. She went to shoot at the car, but her gun merely clicked in protest. She swore loudly and then she was feeling along his side, under his suit jacket. Her groping hands found their objective and she pulled his own pistol out, cocking it for a fresh assault.

He sped along the Seine while she emptied his own weapon, and then a thought struck him as he saw a few more cars join the chase. Jesus, how many of these guys would they have to try to evade? They were low on bullets and on options. He could hear the faint sound of sirens now on top of everything. “Rey, I have an idea.”

She looked at him expectantly and he gestured his head to the dark water. It took her a moment and then her eyes were wide. “Are you absolutely barking?”

“We have to lose these guys, and we’re going to have a much better chance of doing that if they’re not following a car that might as well have a neon ‘shoot us’ sign above it.” He looked at her, the hard expression in his eyes again, and then she gulped and nodded. He gave her his own little curt bob of the head and then whipped the car through a plaza, narrowly avoiding the planted trees.

He saw a stairwell just wide enough to fit the car and then gunned forward to leap down the expanse. The cars behind him hadn’t predicted this new course of action and were taking a while to catch up.

“Ready?” he asked quietly. Rey looked at him and he could tell from her eyes that she was as ready as she’d ever be at this point. He tentatively opened his door and she did the same. The timing would have to be perfect on this or the car might run one of them over. With a flourish he whipped the car sideways from the overhang and simultaneously exited the car. Rey did the same and they rolled to a stop as their vehicle bowled into the river in an explosion of water.

Before either of them could possibly have time to react, he was already pulling her up by the hand, ducking behind the barest cover as he ran headlong down the walkway. There was no time for clever thinking, he would have to rely purely on animalistic survival instinct at this point. They didn’t have much of a lead and would have to employ every bit of stealth they’d learned.

As they left earshot, Ben could tell their pursuers had taken the bait and were out of their cars and inspecting the sinking wreckage in the inky depths of the waterway. Rey was clearly having trouble keeping up with his long limbs but if she was suffering, she was silent about it. Finally, he brought them up a distance away from the scene and they were back on the sidewalk, slowing down now to try to blend into the Paris nightlife. He was hobbling slightly but attempting to make his gait as normal as possible as his lower leg winced.

Rey got his attention as she bumped into him so he would look over. He did so and saw a seemingly abandoned building that was pulsing with lights and life. He pulled her toward it, and they made swift work of the bouncer guarding the entrance. The pair leaned him backwards in the small concrete door frame, so he was effectively propped up and slipped inside the club.

The flashing lights and vibration of the loud music was jarring compared to the ordeal they had barely escaped, but if they were followed, Ben was sure that the crowds and noise would be just as disorienting to their hunters as to them. Rey had made an exceptionally good call and if they survived this, he’d have to let her know that. It was easy to slip into the throng of people and disappear. Rey was panting hard next to him and her hair that had once been immaculate was a complete mess. He probably didn’t look any better. He could tell where his suit had ripped in places and could feel several bruises beginning their rapid formation along torso and shoulders. He felt exceptionally drained right now but needed to continue soldiering on until they were well and truly safe.

He felt Rey tense beside him and turned his attention to where hers already lay. Fuck. The door they’d entered was ajar and the entrants weren’t exactly subtle. Rey tugged on him now, leading him further into the anonymity of the swarm of people grinding and unaware of the danger. They’d need to blend in, but when he looked at her, he could see the look in her eyes. She was waging a war he could tell; the one between the training that had drilled in her not to run and the look of a twenty-three-year-old girl caught like a rabbit in a snare. He brought his hands up to her face and forced her to look into his brown eyes. There was fear in him, sure, but he’d learned a long time ago that giving in to that feeling was how you ended up dead, not the other way around. She seemed to calm at this, and her instinct and training began to take over once again.

She chanced a glance at the men stalking them like a pack of bloodhounds hot on the scent. They were parting the crowd. They’d need to hide and hide quick. Before he could start to formulate a plan for concealment, Rey was bringing his head down sharply, covering his mouth with her own. He was surprised at first, but then gave in to the impulse. If they were going to die here, then at least this wasn’t a bad way to go out. Her mouth was demanding and warm on his and his heart was no longer hammering from the chase. He pulled her close and felt her gasp slightly as his tongue found hers. He could feel a low rumble from her that was overshadowed by the deafening music. She was so slight in his large grasp. Then just as suddenly she was pulling away from him. He had a slightly dazed expression as he tried to catch his breath from more than the exertion of escape. He was quickly brought back to reality as Rey snapped her fingers to gain his attention. She was waving for him to follow her and as he came to his senses again, he noticed the men disappearing some distance from them. Her ruse had worked and had bought them just enough time for a hasty getaway.

He followed her and she fumbled around the wall until she stumbled upon a side exit. They burst back into the night, feeling almost suffocated by the juxtaposition. Rey was whipping her head around until she spotted a motorcycle in the lineup of vehicles. She was fast, impossibly so, as she yanked a pin from her hair. She pulled a connector up from the front end of the bike and jammed the pin into it as it purred to life under her touch. She hopped on the front and Ben climbed on behind her, feeling more than a bit like a giant as he grabbed around her middle. She revved the engine and sped off.

He could barely hear the aftermath as the doors behind them burst open and the gang spilled out after them. He could see them in the rearview and they were very nearly out of range, the bullets making faint popping noises behind them, when he felt a sharp sting on his side. He flinched and grunted loudly, almost toppling both of them, but managed to stay upright somehow. Rey had noticed but was too busy trying to get them the hell out of dodge to stop.

* * *

“This is it?” Ben lamented when they finally burst into the cramped confines of the safe house. “MI6 needs a lesson in hospitality.” They’d had to walk here from a distance after they’d finally eluded their trackers. Rey had let him know where they were headed, and he had followed in her wake. He steeled himself against the onslaught of pain throughout his body, and the growing burn in his side. All in all, it hadn’t exactly put him in a charitable mood.

Rey rolled her eyes, “It’s functional and should be provisioned for us until we can safely leave. This isn’t a vacation, Ben.”

“Oh what, you don’t like moth eaten carpet and wood paneling when you’re enjoying some R and R?” he joked tersely, touching the walls. He left a little smear mark of blood on the plywood panels and Rey cocked an eyebrow.

He wandered into the kitchen, pulling off his suit jacket and tossing it over a chair. The adrenaline from their escape was beginning to wear off and he could feel the place over his ribs begin to throb aggressively as his whole body seemed to begin shaking. He attempted to ignore it as he scouted out what “provisions” that Rey had alluded about. Apparently, provisions were several tins of beans, likely past their expiration, and canned meat. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“What is that?” Her aggressive query definitely wasn’t about the sparse accommodations, however, and it distracted him from his search. Rey had followed him into the confined space, and she pointed at the place where his shirt was clearly torn, a rosy bloom steadily growing from it. He looked down at the injury and shrugged.

“It’s nothing, I must have gotten nicked in the chase,” he brushed off her concern and tried to reach out for the food in front of him. “I’ve had worse before, trust me.”

He grimaced as pain lanced through his side at the stretch and Rey grumbled at this show. He was starting to sweat from exertion.

“Okay, that’s it. Take your shirt off,” she instructed unbendingly, and he had to consciously school his thoughts at the memory of another time and another place when she’d said those words to him.

“No. I’m fine,” he replied turning back quickly, and felt a sharper stab of pain that sent a new flood of warmth down his side.

Upon seeing the stain of blood spreading on his torso, her eyes hardened. “Take your shirt off. Now. Or I’ll do it for you.” She kept her gaze fixed on his until as if possessed by someone other than himself he began to gingerly undo the buttons of his now ruined shirt. One by one they came undone, revealing his well-toned abdomen and he saw Rey watch his progress. For a moment he could almost imagine that she was doing it with a hunger in her eyes, but the moment was gone, and she was coming over to press cold fingers against his warm flesh as he shrugged out of the shirt completely. He jumped a bit at the icy touch, and she smirked.

“Don’t be a baby,” she chided softly, and he scowled at her. She turned him gently, with a tenderness that he wasn’t accustomed to from her, and he followed her lead. Her brows furrowed as she examined him, and he cleared his throat to get her attention. She looked up at him, “Oh. Well. It’s pretty deep, but you’re not going to die or anything. I’m going to have to clean it out, though…and you’ll need stitches.”

Just as quickly as she had been touching him, Rey had released him and was now bustling about the safe house kitchen, looking. She groaned at the sparse accommodations that he had balked at earlier. “I found something. But you’re not going to like it.”

“Oh?” he called, and she turned to look at him, her nose crinkling in disgust.

  
“Truth be told, I don’t much like it either.

“Here, you’re going to want to drink this,” Rey said and handed him the bottle of clear liquid while she juggled a small medical kit. He darted his eyes over the paper label and let out a groan.

“You’re kidding. Grain alcohol?” he raised a quizzical brown and tried to shove it back into her hands, but she persisted.

“This is going to hurt, and it’ll be easier for me if you’re relaxed,” she replied matter-of-factly. “We’re not going anywhere for a while, and that wound needs stitching now, not later.”

“Fine,” he conceded and resentfully took a swig after twisting off the top. There was no taste, just an intense burn that made him want to cough and caused his features to contort in disgust. He took a few more deep swills and had to resist the urge to vomit it back up. Rey looked on with features verging almost on concern. When he was finished, she took it back from him and set it on the table.

“I’m going to get some things prepared; that should give _that_ ,” a meaningful glance at the bottle, “enough time to kick in. With any luck it won’t be very long.” He nodded. She bit her lip and then said, “I don’t know if I have enough gauze in here for everything. I’m going to have to improvise a bit for this first part.”

She reached down to the hem of her dress and with a ripping noise she pulled a large strip and held it in his direction. “Here. I know it’s not ideal, but try to apply pressure as well as you can for now.” When he didn’t move to take the scrap from her, she put it to his side and brought his opposing arm up to cover it as if he was giving himself a hug.

True to her words, the effect of the one hundred and ninety proof liquor was swift. Ben Solo was no lightweight, but the effects were dramatic. Sure, he’d certainly done his fair share of drinking to elude the sting of his own loneliness in the world, but he’d never been stupid enough to actually drink grain alcohol straight. Until now. His head was swimming within ten minutes and a warm feeling of drunkenness washed over him, wrapping him in a mild euphoria.

When Rey finally came back with a bowl of water and some clean damp rags that must have been stowed away elsewhere, she could see him swaying and quickly came to his side to support him. She was strong and there was something about that that he quite liked. She led him over to the empty table and pushed him to lay down.

“Ok, you need to lay on your side so I can see what I’m doing,” he obliged her, feeling much more receptive to the persuading tone of her voice. Her hands were gentle over him and if his side didn’t hurt so damn bad, he’d probably be leaning into her touch like an overlarge cat. He felt something warm and wet caress his side around the area he was holding in place. The rough surface of the terrycloth scrubbed away the excess blood that had spilled from the gash and he couldn’t help but think that it felt sort of _nice._ That changed with her next words.

“I’m going to need to clean the wound now, Ben,” she said, and moved his hand out of the way without preamble. He hissed with pain as he felt the splash of alcohol on his side. It wasn’t the worst pain that he’d ever felt, but that didn’t exactly make things better. He swore loudly when the spots behind his eyes from the sudden pain dissipated and his brows came down in a deep furrow on his forehead.

“Do you need a second?” Rey asked tentatively, seeing his clear discomfort, and he shook his head as well as he could.

“Just-just do whatever you need to,” he gritted out, slurring the words. “Get it done.”

“I’m going to have to make sure there’s nothing solid in here before I begin stitching; fabric, dirt, that sort of thing.” He knew she was explaining things for his benefit, but that didn’t stop him from just wanting her hurry. His free hand gripped the side of the table he was laying down on until his knuckles went white as he felt the cold sting of tweezers probing in the graze wound. The grain alcohol did dull the pain a bit, but not enough. There was another splash of the cleansing liquid that cleared his head for just a moment as he let out a load groan.

His head returned to the heavy dullness once more as he heard her say something along the lines of, “Ok, I’m going to start stitching.” This pain was much more tolerable under the circumstances, and she was almost rhythmic in her ministrations. A sharp nip as needle pierced flesh, then a gentle tugging, and over and over it went. He could nearly fall asleep to the cadence of her embroidery on his flesh.

“Why are you doing this for me?” he asked, trying to think through the fog of inebriation.

“Because, if you died on me because of infection, it’d be pretty inconvenient.” The response was clipped, a note of dry sarcasm behind the guarded walls.

“Why study medicine?” The questions rolled off his tongue with ease, his restraint truly abandoning him.

She sucked in a breath and the next few stitches she made in his side were perhaps a little harder than strictly necessary. He thought absently that she likely wasn’t going to answer, but after a pause that seemed to last a lifetime. “Maybe I want to feel like I’m saving people. If I save one person, maybe that makes up for…everything else.” There was a vulnerability in her voice that he’d never heard before.

Finally, she finished and secured a large gauze pad over her work, taping it in place.

“All finished,” she said and rubbed a hand absently between his shoulder blades. Ben had a hard time containing the contented noise and it slipped from his lips in a shuddering breath. She didn’t comment, but merely set about hooking her hands under his arms. “Hey, come on, let’s get you off of here.”

He tried to help her, he really did, but by this point he was feeling incredibly intoxicated. He was stumbling about like a newborn giraffe and Rey had her hands full just trying to get him under control. She did her best to lead his hulking form down to the bedroom of the safe house and he fell backwards with whooshing of breath.

“Hey, be careful,” she said, a hint of gentleness in her voice as she put her hand on his face. “You don’t want to pop those stitches already.” She turned to go but he gripped her wrist and felt her tense.

“Don’t leave,” was all his muddled mind could slurry out. It came out like a childish whine. She paused then and he used the opportunity to pull her downwards. It wasn’t that hard when she wasn’t fighting back; she weighed practically nothing. She did her best to fall towards his good side and landed with a soft _oof_.

“What are you doing?” The question was wary, full of distrust. He was too drunk at this point to care and brought his large hand up to rest on her cheek.

“Stay with me,” Ben said, the words coming out deep and throaty with drink.

“Don’t.” Her single word response was guarded but tinged with something else. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her sound on the verge of tears before, not legitimately at least. Somehow the thought made him incredibly sad in return. Something inside him responded to the loneliness he knew they shared and then he was tugging her downwards to him.

The feel of her lips on his was soft, much softer than they had ever been before. She seemed stunned at first but then relaxed into him, returning the kiss. It was slow, a deep steady heat rather than the quick flame of passion he was accustomed to when Rey was acting. He brought up his other arm, wincing only slightly, and carded his long fingers in her hair that had fallen from its earlier styling into soft waves that cascaded around her face. He flickered a tongue over her lip and found an answer there. She didn’t taste like her cherry lip balm like normal, having worn it off much earlier in the night. She just tasted like sweat and blood and…her. Rey let him continue to kiss her for another minute and then pushed herself off of him carefully.

“Goddammit, Ben,” she whispered, but there wasn’t any real anger behind it as she stroked his face. “You’re absolutely pissed.” She sighed and stood up, scooting his legs onto the bed. He groaned at the loss of her and she let out another little noise of frustration. Rey walked out of his field of vision, moving around the bed and then he felt the creak of springs to his right. He flipped over to see her laying down a comfortable distance from him, but in the bed all the same. Ben reached out a hand, but she pushed it back to him, shaking her head. All the same she did let her fingers linger on his palm, and the touch comforted him. He huffed slightly nonetheless since she wouldn’t come near him now, but the bed was softer than he’d thought it would be and he felt incredibly tired. She ran her nails gently over the inside of his hand and he could feel consciousness draining from him quickly as he drifted into a drunken slumber.

* * *

Rey was there when he woke up, curled like a cat on the opposite side of the bed. She was already awake, and she was just…staring. There was no expression on her face, and he tried to perceive her thoughts, but with no luck.

“Good morning,” she whispered softly. He nodded and when he tried to turn to look at her, grimaced in pain at the return of sensation. Not only was his head pounding from a particularly egregious hangover, but the wound on his side was certainly no cake walk either. When the pain subsided, that indiscernible expression was gone, and was replaced with one of mild interest.

“What do you remember from last night?” The question was valid, but Ben’s pounding head betrayed him.

“Nothing, really,” he replied, trying to will the memories to come back to him but to no avail. He remembered getting into the safe house, drinking the grain alcohol and some of the procedure she’d performed on him, but after that? It was a blur and then a dark abyss. Rey nodded simply and rolled over to plant her feet on the ground, her back to him.

“Erm, we’ll have to make contact soon; my organization is the closest, and they’ll need to know that this safehouse is compromised now that we’ve been here,” she said, standing up and piling her hair on top of her head with her hands.

“Sure,” Ben replied, knowing that it was all part of their job. But why did something in him feel…sad, somehow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be grittier somehow, but I've just decided that it's going to be a trope-tastic action fic with a little bit of angst and a lot of sexual tension splashed inside. Tropes are fun though.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so it's been...a while. But I'll have you know I'm not in the habit of abandoning fics. Sometimes I just need a moment to get my inspiration back.
> 
> Hopefully this was worth the wait because it's nearly 10.5k words. With smut. 
> 
> I'm switching to Rey's POV this chapter to better tell the story from that angle, but will probably switching between the two in future.
> 
> I have also updated the tags, so please be mindful. This was tropey and ended up gritty again like I originally intended. It'll probably continue to swing between tropes and grit as we go forward. I also put a tentative chapter count on this, but it's subject to change based on where I end up taking this.
> 
> CW//TW  
> implied/referenced past child abuse and sexual assault  
> implied past torture  
> past murder  
> violent interrogation (marked with "***")  
> morally ambiguous sex

“Stop fidgeting.” Ben placed his hand over Rey’s, annoyance clear in his voice. She had been tapping her fingers in agitation against the side of her chair as they sat waiting in a whitewashed, characterless room at MI6 headquarters. Before yesterday she probably would have told him to sod off and done it even louder in protest, but after the events of the last twenty-four hours she felt jarred in more ways than one. He looked at her and the irritation seemed to melt, but he retracted his hand from her as if burned. His warm fingers around her own left an impression that lingered, and Rey felt calmer somehow. Ben was…complicated.

What had started out as a way of getting one over, or under, another overhyped and underworking boy with a gun fetish had evolved somehow. They had started out at odds, with Ben very clearly not taking her seriously. If Rey had a dollar for every time someone looked at her slight frame and thought that she wasn’t completely capable of destroying them while blindfolded…well, she might not have to work at MI6, now would she? And that’s all that she had thought of Ben Solo after being partnered with him and also taking him to bed (not necessarily in that order, perhaps).

But they had spent the better part of the last two months in constant companionship with one another. Her first impressions had been that he was a sloppy lay and an even sloppier agent as he hadn’t even bothered with the most basic of tasks in either scenario. It had been easy to tease him, seeing the blood flush to the tips of his ears as she poked little holes in his ego. And it was a true delight to her when he had challenged her in hand to hand combat and she had summarily and quite literally left him on his ass. The fact that even after that he had batted away her hand and continued to underestimate her shouldn’t have gotten under her skin so much, but his petulant behavior reminded her too much of the way her fellow colleagues had sneered at the “foster brat”. And so if she had been a little rougher with her new partner than originally intended, was she really to blame?

She was, however, surprised to hear him actually apologize later that same day. She had been in the middle of expressing “healthy and natural emotions” when he had found her and seemed poised for another round of ‘Piss Rey off’. But then he’d said sorry, actually  _ sincerely _ said sorry, after she’d called him out on his chauvinistic tripe. Was this a trick? She had shaken hands with him hesitantly, and it looked like her time at Langley wouldn’t be a total nightmare after all.

She’d observed him during their time listening to coded chatter that  _ might  _ be about their objective and had tried to glean a few things that a CIA dossier couldn’t tell you. He smoked, despite a brief report in his file saying he’d had severe trauma to his lung at one point. She hated the way the scent of the stale tobacco clung to him after he returned from a smoke break. It brought back far too many memories of her last foster situation, the one that had led her straight into the arms of MI6. Ben had given her a strange look after the first time she’d looked at him with clear disgust, and inexplicably the pungent aroma of cigarettes gradually faded.

He drank coffee that was blacker than his suits, but Rey had never been able to stomach the stuff. MI6 was very strict with the diets of their academy recruits, so there were many things she’d never developed a taste for. He never organized his logs, preferring to surround himself in a pile of yellow sticky notes, and at the end of each day he would bring them over and dump them on her neat stack of reports. She’d had to develop a system for coding his bizarre notations. Occasionally she would find a note that didn’t have any actual pertinent information, but a little doodle etched in ballpoint pen that he’d forgotten to remove from the stack. He was heavy handed with the little drawings, as if he was trying to gouge his creations into being. No one had to know that she slipped those little pieces of his mind into the desk drawer when she wasn’t being watched. She justified it as a way of translating him.

She began to notice a gradual shift in Ben. At first, she thought she must be mistaken and so she ignored the little changes in his behavior. Sex in Rey’s mind was one thing — it could be as impersonal and purely physical as you wanted it to be— but the tiny micro-gestures of tenderness that seemed to emanate from him on an increasing frequency scared her. She didn’t get close to others, and she especially didn’t get close to those in her profession. ‘Attachments were weaknesses’ echoed in her mind, drilled into her from a young age. And how could she argue with that logic when her own parents had abandoned her as a child and left her to starve? People couldn’t be trusted because it was never a question of if they would try to hurt you, but when. And she knew without a doubt that Ben Solo could not be trusted.

Her suspicions were brought into heightened focus during their time in France. Despite —or perhaps even because of— the little flashes of kindness from Ben, he managed to find new ways of getting under her skin. She’d cursed herself after letting her guard slip around him, even a fraction, because he’d taken the little bits of her that were raw and vulnerable and put her on edge. It didn’t help that she now knew how Ben curled up in his sleep, or that he snored ever so softly, or that he sometimes drooled in his sleep.

It would be so much easier if he just wanted to fuck her. Then she could just keep pretending and not have to see him as an honest to god human being.

But something in her had changed too. He had kissed her the night before in a way that was tender and sweet and despite herself, she had embraced it for just a moment. She had let herself feel the possibility in the way that his lips moved on hers. In another time, another world. Maybe. He had been completely drunk, of course. 

Rey found herself snapped out of this reverie by the entrance of Director Skywalker, and it was like a splash of icy water dousing those happy memories. He slammed the door behind him and seemed to fill the entire room around him with his rage.

“Do you have any idea what kind of strings I’m going to need to pull to get you both out of this mess?” Luke’s tone was furious and they both sat up prim and proper in the chairs in front of his makeshift desk at MI6 headquarters. “Please, explain what you didn’t understand when I said do  _ not  _ engage?!”

He slammed the footage stills, taken from a bank camera of Rey leaning out of the car window, gun drawn. Next a photo of the two of them fleeing, Ben covered in dust and blood, taken from a traffic camera. Another of a bullet riddled car being pulled out of the Seine. In the light of day, she did feel slightly ashamed at the evidence of their botched assignment. Her one dream in this place was to be in the field and now…she didn’t know if she’d ever see anything but filing cabinets and fluorescent lighting again.

“But, sir, protocol states-“ Ben started, and Rey wanted to kick him. Clearly, the painkillers he’d been given after finally being attended to by an MI6 physician were clouding his judgment and making him bold.

“Don’t lecture me on protocol, boy,” Luke replied, his tone escalating. He shook a finger in Ben’s face. “I wrote the goddamn protocol.”

“It was self-defense,” Ben stated, locking eye contact and refusing to back down. “We were made before we’d even left the casino. Someone knew we were there. So maybe, instead of lecturing us, you should spend more time figuring out who the fuck that person is, and what that means for our operation.” Scratch that, she wanted to kiss him.

Luke looked like he wanted to give another thunderous reply but was interrupted as a small mousy man banged on the door of the office. The guise of a professional dropped back into place on his uncle’s face and he beckoned for the man to enter with a barking, “What is it?”

Erm,” the new addition to the room cleared his throat and then, “Our teams, sir, they picked up someone while cleaning the safe house that…that Agent Niima and Officer Ren were using. We’re holding him in custody down in interrogation now.”

Director Skywalker gave a curt nod of dismissal and when the man was safely out of earshot he turned to Ben. “This conversation is not over. Don’t think that you’re not still toeing a very, very fine line. I have half a mind to tell your mother.”

Ben inhaled sharply and it was as if he was a teenager. “You wouldn’t.”

“Test me. Now, interrogation. I presume you can handle that much?” Luke looked at him long and hard.

Ben’s throat bobbed for a moment, then his eyes filled with a steely resolve. “Of course, sir.”

* * *

Rey trailed behind Ben, struggling to keep up with his strides. For every one of his long steps, she needed to take three of her own and she was practically sprinting down the hallway in his wake. Something about his demeanor was different, cold and unyielding. Rey had started to form opinions of Ben Solo during their brief tenure as partners, but  _ this _ , whatever this was, hadn’t been part of her observation.

“Ben, slow down,” she called, breathless before they’d even reached their destination. He slowed slightly but didn’t look at her.

A younger MI6 agent walked out of the interrogation room, slamming it behind him. He spotted Ben first and called out, “He’s all yours. He’s a tough son of a bitch.” Then his eyes lighted on Rey and recognition dawned on him. He strode past Ben as if he was no longer there and stopped in front of her, fidgeting with something in his pockets. “Rey, I mean, Agent Niima. How-how are you?”

“Agent Kin,” she said curtly. She was still mad at him. To be fair, it hadn’t  _ really _ been his fault that she’d been passed over by their head of department. But it still, quite frankly, pissed her off that despite her outstripping him at academy and her having done all the work on their last assignment together that  _ he  _ had been chosen by Enric Pryde instead of her to lead the ground assault on what  _ should  _ have been her first assignment. She was the better agent of the two of them, and it should have been  _ her _ on that mission, not him. Instead she’d been told that she didn’t “fit the specifications” that Pryde had been looking for in his ground team. And then she’d stewed over it in silent anger until finally she’d been given a shot on a mission that would pair her with a senior CIA officer. Which led her…here.

“You know him?” Ben said, his tone flat as he looked between her and the man who was now standing between him and Rey.

“Agent Kin and I are…acquainted,” she sniffed casually. Acquainted was one way to put it. She wouldn’t exactly classify Beau as an ex-boyfriend, because Rey didn’t  _ do  _ exes or boyfriends. He was merely someone that she’d spent a lot of time around during academy and if they’d gone to bed together more than once, what did that matter?

“Oh.” Ben was monosyllabic again. Wonderful.

Beau was slightly more expressive as he read Rey’s cold body language, and his eyes seemed a bit hurt by her indifference. He cleared his throat and turned back to that matter at hand, addressing Ben. “Your men picked him up sniffing around the safehouse. You didn’t cover your tracks very well.” Ben regarded Beau for a moment and Rey could see the shorter man shrinking ever so slightly under his intense gaze. Beau’s weakness in academy had always been his mental fortitude, which was why it had been such a surprising blow that  _ he  _ had been chosen for field work. “He, erm, he doesn’t want to answer our questions.”

“We’ll see,” Ben said, and entered the enclosed room. Rey watched him square his shoulders through the two-way glass.

***

“I’m not telling you-“ the burly man handcuffed to the chair started, but Ben had already crossed the room in two strides, slamming his head into the table in front of him with a loud crash. It cut him off quite effectively.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Beaumont hissed, his eyes widening in shock and his mouth practically dropping. Rey wanted to ask the same question of Ben herself, her eyes widening at the sudden display of violence. Where had this even come from? It was like someone had flipped a switch as soon as Ben’s tall form had passed over the threshold of the room. 

The man picked his head off of the table with a groan as Ben began to casually roll up the cuffs of his sleeves, exposing his forearms. He took off his watch thoughtfully and dropped it to the table with a dull thunk. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders.

“I don’t want you to tell me anything,” Ben said softly, a dark malevolence in his eyes and voice, as he squatted down next to him. He was eye to eye with the man. “I’ve had a very long day, and I was hoping you’d be difficult.”

“Go fuck yourself,” the man spat, getting flecks of blood on Ben’s face. Ben ran a large hand over his face to wipe it off, then gave a sharp snap of his wrist to flick the moisture off of himself.

“Would you say you’re more attached to your right or left hand?” Ben asked then, “No wait, don’t tell me. I’ve changed my mind; I want to guess.” Rey could see Ben toying with the man and walking around the interrogation table. “Left it is. Yell if I was right.” He pulled his hand from where it was handcuffed as the man tried desperately to wrench it free, and with a swift jerk broke his index finger. A squeal of pain echoed in the room.

“You can’t be serious?” Beau said, gesticulating at the glass. “Are you going to just stand by and-and watch this?”

“Mind your own business, Beau,” Rey replied tersely, hiding the wince she felt at another loud yell from the room. “This  _ isn’t _ . Unless you’d like to try to take my job. Again.”

“This is against MI6 protocol, Rey. ” he spluttered as further shouts could be heard in the room. Rey knew he was right, and if her judgment wasn’t still clouded by anger, she probably would agree with him and put an end to it.

“Ben’s not MI6,” Rey shrugged, trying to act as if the aggression on display wasn’t jarring her. “He’s under orders from Director Skywalker. Take it up with him if you don’t have the stomach for this.”

“Really, Rey? That’s where we’re at now?” Beau let out a frustrated noise as several grunts and cries rang out from the interrogation room. “When you’re done whinging about me, maybe you’ll try not to let your newest boyfriend kill the bloke, ok? At least  _ try  _ to remember that we’re professionals, not murderers.”

“Oh, piss off, Beau,” Rey yelled, her hackles rising, turning away as Agent Kin stalked off. It felt like each of his words was an accusation. 

Ben had done more damage while she was distracted, and no wonder. Even with the man seated, she could tell that their suspect was not much taller than herself. And compared to Ben, who was built like a brooding mountain? Well there was no comparison. She was no stranger to violence and the CIA’s interrogation techniques had an unstated reputation, but still...

“You work for some people who wanted me and my partner dead.” Ben stated. He wasn’t looking at the restrained man, and Rey could see a muscle twitching above his brow. She wondered if Ben could sense her eyes on him. Almost as if in response to the thought, his eyes darted up to the two way mirrored wall. There was no way he knew where to look but she met his eye, nonetheless. There was only darkness in his gaze. 

“I told you,” the man panted, “I’m not giving you anything.” The resolve in his voice was wavering, and Rey could hear it. She could hear it just like you could hear ice cracking before it shattered below your feet. 

“Have I asked you any questions?” Ben replied as he turned his back to the glass once more, getting close to the suspect. Rey almost couldn’t hear him, despite the microphones that were stashed strategically throughout the interrogation room. He was…terrifying and beautiful to behold if she was being completely honest. The six foot killer in the room was nothing like the man that she’d spent the last two months around. Had this been hidden underneath the entire time? “I can  _ take _ whatever I want. Do you honestly think you could stop me if I  _ wanted _ answers from you? Don’t bother responding; I’m merely stating the facts.”

If fear had a smell, and Rey thought that perhaps it smelled a bit like stale sweat and urine, this man would reek of it. He reminded Rey slightly of an overly large mole or maybe a rat in the way that his eyes darted around looking for salvation.

Ben continued, getting very close to the rodent-like man’s face, and Rey wished she could see the expression on Ben’s face. She imagined that it would look something like a lion stalking prey through the savannah. “As I was saying, you work for some very bad people. And those people wanted me dead. They wanted my  _ partner _ dead.” Ben reached into his holster and pulled out his gun. He drew it out slowly as if handling a lover, inspecting the way that it glinted under the dull lighting. Rey’s mouth grew dry at the sight. There was a part of her that was screaming to burst into the room and put an end to this, follow Beau’s orders and report everything immediately. But another part wanted to watch Ben. He was like an artist, human flesh and psyche his canvas. 

The man started to convulse a little bit at the sight of the firearm, and then Ben’s massive hands gripped his chin, forcing him to look directly into his own brown eyes. ”Oh, don’t be nervous. A bullet would be...too good for you. It’d be too quick, you see. Do you think that I’m an impatient man? Has anything so far given you the impression that when you die it’ll be  _ easy _ ?” 

“You wouldn’t,” the man replied pitifully, trying to call Ben’s bluff. God, Rey hoped it was a bluff. This was going into an area that even Rey had moral qualms about. 

“Look into my eyes and tell me I’m lying,” Ben replied. It was so quiet as to be almost sensual. The man was squirming, trying to avert his eyes as blood ran from his nose and his lips.

“Please,” the man said now, starting to break down. There were tears mixing with the sweat and the blood as he pleaded, “ _ Please _ don’t kill me,” 

Ben stood up, releasing the man’s jaw and re-holstering his weapon with a scoff. “Your pathetic life isn’t worth my time.” He started to walk away, then as if struck by something, turned around and brought his heel directly into the man’s chest with incredible force, knocking him backwards and to the floor several feet away, still strapped in the chair. Ben was finished with that last dig, and he turned to leave the interrogation room for real this time. He didn’t spare a glance at Rey who was honestly still stunned but called back, his voice tight, “He’s all yours. He’ll tell you whatever you want to know. If he doesn’t…come find me.”

***

Rey wanted to call after him, ask him exactly what the fuck just happened but just…didn’t. She looked at the interrogation room where the man was breathing heavily. She took a deep breath, training her own face into a mask, and then entered. She had a job to finish before she could contemplate what she’d just witnessed.

“No, please,” the man cried out at the sound of the door, kicking savagely to no avail as he floundered on the floor. He was probably thinking that Ben must be returning to finish what he’d started. His eyes found Rey and he stilled. She might feel sympathy for him,  _ might _ if he likely wasn’t a part of the group that had tried to kill her the previous night. She squatted down where he was on the floor and put a gentle hand under his chin to turn his face up to look at her. He jumped at the contact and Rey had a fleeting thought about how easy this one had been to break. Or maybe Ben had just made it  _ look _ easy. 

“Now, I hope you’ll cooperate with me,” she said softly, her voice deadly sweet. “Because it would really be a shame if I had to call  _ him  _ back in to persuade you.” The man sucked in a breath and darted his eyes about, looking for Ben. He didn’t have to know that he was gone.

“Good, I’m glad we have an understanding. Now, would you mind terribly telling me who you work for?”

* * *

It was done and Rey felt emotionally drained. The man really didn’t know that much, but what he did know was enough to render him a spot in the med bay. Ben had given him several cracked ribs, a broken nose, a mangled hand among other various bruises and wounds. In return, Rey now had a basic understanding of how he’d come to be involved with the group of would-be assassins the previous night.

He was a hired hand, a grunt from somewhere in Croydon, who’d been tempted by a few hundred quid. He didn’t really have much insight into the inner workings of the people who’d hired him and the money had seemed good. He was just some low-level thug who had gotten off at the thought of getting  _ paid _ for things he likely would have done for free. Soft and untrained. 

“Who hired you? Do you have a name?”

He hadn’t had a name, just that the men who had come into the bar he’d called his second home looked out of place. He’d taken a ferry across the Channel and joined up with several other men with similar stories, and they’d been told to wait in cars that were far nicer than anything they could afford on their own. They’d been told to wait for the signal and had been placed about Paris with guns that their new employer trusted that they could use. The signal had come across, and if that hadn’t been enough, they’d been provided with a picture of a tall man with dark hair to find.

So, they had been looking for Ben.

She had wrapped up and put in a requisition to look at the man’s bank account. Rey supposed they could look for any strange transactions that MI6 could trace, but from what he’d told her he’d been paid in cash. 

What a mess. With the entirety of their mission botched and no further leads it would be a wonder if she’d ever see the field again.

This weighed on her mind, furrowing her brow and puckering her lips into a frown as she prepared to leave for the day. She figured she could finish debriefing tomorrow; tonight she was finished and only wanted to get as far as possible from here.

Her efficiency apartment was still paid for by MI6 and so at least she wouldn’t have to stay in the overly sanitized guest quarters. She found her possessions, shouldering the bag that had been extracted from the hotel room in Paris after MI6 and the CIA had collaborated to scrub their temporary base.

As she left the office, her thoughts still a tangle, she saw a veritable chimney stack pacing back and forth in front of the discreet office front. Ben was several cigarettes deep into a fresh pack if the pile of butts thrown on the ground was any indication. She walked through the choking cloud to his side and waved her hand in front of her face to clear away the smoke. Ben stopped for a moment to acknowledge her presence before pulling the cigarette from his mouth and holding it at his side. 

He exhaled, letting a billow of white smoke drift up to the sky and continued his frantic pacing. Ok, this was far and away enough of that. Rey reached out and grabbed at his arm to stop him and he looked down at her with a hard stare. There was none of that puppy-ish gentleness or assholish attitude that he normally exuded in equal parts while in her presence and she had to bite back the urge to step away from him. She wasn’t  _ afraid _ , per se given that she knew she could hold her own against him. It was just…off-putting. She pulled her hand back as if she’d touched a live wire and she felt a heat pool between her leg of its own accord.

If she’d been asked earlier that week, she could probably have said with conviction that she knew everything there was worth knowing about Ben Solo. She would likely have said that he was just some puffed up CIA meathead, married to his work but always rewarded for subpar results, a selfish lover, and a man who thought he was the very first to develop “feelings” with the way he looked at her every time she rebuffed him. Now? There was a dark cloud that covered him after his violent display and something inside of Rey was responding to it. Perhaps there was more to him than she’d assumed.

“Hey,” she started lamely, and he quirked an eyebrow at her as if to bite out  _ What? _ She said the next thing that came to mind in a rush— her voice defaulting to the sarcastic tone she always used when she was nervous but didn’t want to show it — and kicked herself internally for the words. “You look like shit.” 

His nostrils flared slightly and he dropped the butt to the ground before stubbing it out with some force under his heel.  _ This  _ Ben was not one to be teased, she noted. He swiveled as if to go until she called out, “Wait, that came out wrong.”

He turned his head back for a moment, regarding her with expressionless eyes as she struggled to find new words while her throat felt like it was lined with cotton. Perhaps he thought she’d ask him what had gone on in the interrogation room, ask about the dramatic switch on his personality. Maybe he might think it was a chance to get some of his own back at her. What he didn’t seem to anticipate however were what finally spilled out. “I only meant….you look like you could use a drink. Do you want to get a pint...with me? There’s a pub not far from here.”

Confusion and the return of the version of Ben Solo whom she’d worked next to for the last couple of months rolled over his expressive face. He looked to think over her request for a minute before saying curtly, “I thought we weren’t friends.”

“We’re not. But I don’t have to be your friend to drink with you,” she retorted, her normal, reckless courage returning. “So, do you want to go or not?” Rey turned on  _ her _ heel now as if to leave and as she walked away, she could hear his footfalls behind her.

The walk was quiet and for once Rey didn’t mind Ben’s presence. There was something inside of her that recognized the darkness she had witnessed in him. Something that was calling out to it in return. They arrived at the pub and Rey walked inside the dimly lit tavern. It felt good to be home finally. Washington was…something, but there was nothing like being in one’s favorite pub to feel at ease.

The bartender recognized her, and his face lit up, “Hello, hello. Alright, Sunshine?”

“I’m right knackered, Wedge” Rey said genially, “Mind getting me and my mate a pint?”

“Mate, eh?” the old bartender asked, looking Ben up and down, “He looks a bit dodgy, but I suppose he’s a sight better than that smarmy bloke you used to run with.”

“I’m not running with him, Wedge,” she said and glanced at Ben quickly. He was looking at her with an odd expression. Maybe it was the sudden shift in the mood, jarring after the events of the interrogation room.

“Well, good. Pretty girl like you,” Wedge said and settled a couple of glasses in front of her and Ben.

Rey grabbed them from the bar, “How much do I owe you?”

Wedge waved a hand dismissively at her, “Ah, consider it a welcome back gift.” Rey smiled broadly at him and took the drinks over to one of her favorite spots in the pub. It was settled back into a corner, but still had a view of the door. Ben seemed to relax a bit too at seeing the secluded area.

“Sunshine, huh?” he asked, gingerly picking up the pint glass and taking a tepid sip.

“No one here knows my real name,” Rey said matter-of-factly. “I like it that way. Makes it…easier.”

“Mm,” he replied, and Rey found herself wanting to change the subject.

“So, back there,” she said quickly, averting her eyes from him. “You do that often?”

“That’s classified,” he said rotely and she snorted. Leave it to the CIA to turn their officers into automatrons.

“Oh, classified, eh?” she said a teasing note in her voice. “Well, a blind person could see that wasn’t your first time...interrogating someone. I’m not some doe-eyed civilian, Ben. I know, and you know, that we’ve both  _ done  _ things.”

Ben looked around surreptitiously, “Should you really be talking about this here?”

“What, in front of all of these people?” she asked sardonically, gesturing to the empty room. “Come off it. Why are you dodging the question, Ben?”

“I’m not dodging,” he replied defensively, “ _ Some _ of us just take our jobs more seriously than others.”

Her nostrils flared a bit, “Oh that’s rich coming from you. Considering you didn’t even bother to look at my file before I met you. Now, are you going to answer me or not?”

Ben’s face was turning red, his ears following suit at her retort before finally bursting out in a harried whisper, “Yes. I have ‘ _ done that before’ _ . Happy?”

“Not really, no,” she answered honestly and turned back to her ale. That quelled his anger and they sat in awkward silence for a while. 

“So,” he said finally and trailed off as if he wasn’t sure how to continue. He cleared his throat and began again, “You were…pretty young…when you joined the academy.”

“Oh no,” she said shaking her head, “We’re not doing this, Ben. This isn’t an arrangement where we both swap gossip and braid each other’s hair.”

“It’s a fair question, considering,” he said directly, ignoring her jibe. “Why are you dodging it, Rey?”

“Because none of my friends want to hear the sad sob story of Rey Niima,” she replied, bitterness filling her voice.

“We’re not friends, though.” His words weren’t filled with malice or heat, and that brought her to a halt.

“No, we’re not,” she agreed, finding her words again. “So, I want  _ you _ to know even less.”

“Hm,” he said, and his eyes roved around before lighting on a dartboard affixed to the wall. “What if I play you for it?”

She followed his glance and then let out a loud snort. “Yeah, sure. You’ll play me for it. I’ll have you know I’ve hustled guys much smarter than you, Ben.”

“Then there should be nothing to worry about,” he replied, and she could almost see the fog that had taken him in the interrogation room receding. The shadow of the man she’d seen was fading with each passing moment, and Rey wondered if she’d imagined it. “Unless you’re scared?”

“Hah, you wish,” she replied, and she could feel herself taking the bait as he goaded her on. They were both looking for distraction, but there was an art to the asking and she would at least pretend to put up a fight. “But you’re neglecting one very important fact.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, practically smirking now. He had her and they both knew it.

“You have to have something  _ I  _ want in return to make it a fair game,” she said smugly, “And if I don’t want to tell you, all I have to do is walk out that door.”

“If that was the case you wouldn’t have invited me here,” he replied with cheek, “But fine, I’ll sweeten the pot. Every point I get you answer one of my questions. Every point  _ you  _ get, I’ll answer anything you want. Sound fair?”

Rey contemplated it for a moment. At times, Ben Solo was completely predictable, but others, like earlier…He was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. And Rey didn’t like admitting how much that piqued her curiosity among other things. “Fine.”

Ben Solo looked completely different in this pub than he had less than an hour earlier. The dichotomy was a symphony of contradictions. He walked over and picked up the darts, handing three to her. “Obviously nothing classified,” he said, turning to the dart board, “But anything else is fair game.”

“Would you belt up already and just throw the damn dart,” she replied hotly, and it was Ben’s turn to snort.

“Touchy, touchy, sweetheart,” he said, and she wanted to hit him right in his recently stitched bullet wound. It wouldn’t be  _ that  _ difficult since she knew that she was faster than him. He turned his body back, lining himself up and did a few practice-throws before sending the dart flying toward the board. She saw the slight grimace on his face before he schooled his features back into a passive expression. The dart had landed just left of center, grazing the edge of the bullseye, but not quite.

“Mm,” Rey replied, “You’re not off to a very good start. What would the CIA say?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ben replied, rolling his eyes and gesturing to his side. “I’m injured.”

“Somehow I can’t find it in myself to care,” she said loftily and sent her own dart flying across the room. A perfect mark. Ben cleared his throat and Rey looked at him, her mouth turning up into a self-satisfied grin. “So, my question.”

“Remember, nothing classified,” he said testily.

“Don’t worry,” she replied flippantly, “My question.” And then she turned serious again, thinking of the look of self-loathing he’d had when she’d found him on the sidewalk. “You hate it, don’t you?”

He looked slightly taken aback, perhaps expecting her to ask him about his mother or whether he cried during sad movies. But Rey couldn’t give a shit about any of that. No, she was only interested in the man she’d come to know and the different man, dark and filled with a powerful rage, that she’d seen in the interrogation room. Ben took his time to answer, and she wondered if maybe he was already regretting having struck this particular bargain, but finally, “Yes. I do. I’m...I’m not a good man, Rey.”

“Then why-“she started but he shook his head.

“One point, one question,” he said firmly, and she pursed her lips in response.

“Fine. But now it’s my turn,” she replied and whipped the dart at the board. She was an excellent marksman, even with a plastic bodied dart, and the metal tip dug in nearly perfect on the bullseye. Nearly.

Ben looked at it and rolled his shoulder, grimacing at the stretch on his ribs, before giving her a smirk. “Distracted, are we? Watch and learn, sweetheart.”

She narrowed her eyes at him as he took a practice swing and then sent the dart flying toward the target with a grace of movement that was unexpected from someone of his stature. And it beat hers by just a hair. The asshole.

“So,” he drawled out pompously, as she practically quivered with competitive rage. “Do you remember what I asked you in Paris?”

“Is that your question?” she quipped, and she could see him clench his jaw just a bit in frustration. 

“ _ No _ ,” he said, a sharp note in his voice. “What I want to know is  _ why _ you’re in this business. You’re…”

“I’m what?” she breathed out with indignation. She was not some toothless pet. She was more than happy to bite back.

“Too damn young,” he finally replied, blowing out a breath between his teeth. “So, why?”

Rey contemplated her drink, settled on an empty table to the side of the dart run. She traced a finger lightly over the lip of the glass before saying, “Have I led you to believe that I’m a good person either, Ben?”

“What’s that-“

“Ah, ah, you want more answers, you can bloody well win them,” she said shortly, and revelled in the way that his dark brows furrowed in frustration. “But I think I’m going to up the ante here. So, see if you can keep up.” She smirked as she took her third dart and tossed it into the air. The little plastic body responded to her and she felt out the weight before throwing it end over end toward the board. The needle sunk into the flesh of the board right in the center.

Ben’s attempt was slightly less graceful, but he at least still managed to get the dart into the bullseye. But Rey’s was still better. He looked at her, perhaps regretting that he’d opened this can of worms and said, “Do your worst.”

“If you hate what you do, then  _ why _ stay?” Rey pressed, and her eyebrows furrowed down slightly.

He hesitated, indiscernible thoughts crossing like rapid fire behind his amber eyes. She watched him carefully, his discomfort evident as he finally turned away and replied, “I’m not…I’m not good for anything else.”

“That’s such bullshit,” Rey said flatly, a flare of anger swelling within her chest. “You’re not  _ good _ for  _ anything else _ ? At least you have a choice-“She cut herself off as the words tumbled out and Ben looked at her as if she’d confirmed something he’d long suspected. She gave him a hard-flinty look as if daring him to speak his mind.

He fingered a dart instead, his thick digits rolling it between thumb and forefinger before with a movement as quick as a striking viper, he sent it whizzing through the air until it landed in the dart board. The silent challenge hung in the air, and Rey repressed the urge to swallow the hard knot in her throat.

Her next throw was unsteady, so close to the target but not close enough. She could feel the breath freezing in her lungs as she looked at Ben. He had the look in his eye again like he had in the interrogation room, like a shark that had scented blood and was driven by purest instinct. He didn’t bother to tease her about lack of focus this time, jumping straight into his question instead.

“Why are you in this business, Rey? Give me an honest answer. Tell me why you think you don’t have a choice,” he said, his voice low and it reminded her of a different time when that baritone had whispered in her ear.  _ That  _ had been by and large a much more pleasant experience. Now he was looking down his long nose at her and refusing to back off.

The words seemed to die in her throat. She’d spent so much time  _ not  _ thinking about this, and the memories seemed to swell back, opening up old hurts once more. “I…I’ve done things, Ben. Terrible things. You think you’re not good for anything else? Try me.”

He let out a frustrated groan, dashing the remaining darts to the floor, “Okay, then  _ tell me _ .”

“No,” she replied harshly, “Why should I trust you? Why should I give  _ you  _ an honest answer? You won’t do the same. What  _ was  _ that back there? It’s like you weren’t even-even human.”

Ben drew in a sharp breath and his eyes darkened. He stalked towards her, and Rey backed away out of reflex. Her training was there, waiting in the tense set of her muscles, ready to spring to life, but- She didn’t want to hurt him. She let herself be backed into a worn wooden support beam, her gaze traveling up to Ben’s face. She’d allow him to corner her for now, baiting the growling darkness. “Do you really want to know what kind of man I am? You want to know about the monster?”

Rey wet her lips, her mouth suddenly dry as she held his gaze, fire behind his stare. When she found her voice again, the word was soft. It was barely audible, but Ben’s nostrils flared in acknowledgement, nonetheless. “Yes.”

His intensity never wavered as he bit out, “Fine.” A deep shuddering breath and then he drew in closer to her ear as if to whisper sweet nothings. “Every rumor you’ve heard, every whisper about what men like me were doing, were…capable of. Well that’s child’s play compared to what I…learned. I’ve done things that would make you squirm” —and she was squirming now, but for a completely different reason — “I’ve made men watch as I turned them inside out, and…I liked it. For a time.”

“And then?” she whispered. “What changed?”

“There was an incident,” he replied, backing away slightly but still so close to her face. She knew now that this man was  _ Kylo Ren _ and Ben Solo was gone. Just like in the interrogation room. “They asked me to do something that even a monster would find…distasteful. And I couldn’t. When the man who taught me saw my weakness…it doesn’t matter…he’s rotting in some desert now. So, tell me, Rey, what terrible,  _ unforgivable _ thing have  _ you  _ done?”

“I killed someone,” she admitted breathlessly, and she watched as the look on his face faded. He almost looked amused, the corners of his mouth just turning up into an imperceptible smirk, a snort just audible. It was as if he thought she was telling a very fine joke. And that stoked the fire inside of her chest. “I  _ murdered  _ someone.”

“And  _ that _ ’ _ s _ what makes you so irredeemable?” he asked, and she could see the memories from the night before in his eyes. The men she’d killed then as well. What was one more on the tally in the grand scheme of things that would send her straight to hell? That would send them  _ both _ to hell? But those men were different. She’d been trying to protect herself, protect  _ him _ .

“I chose to kill him,” she said stiffly, “I  _ wanted  _ to. I planned it out. Every last detail. He was a sick fuck. He  _ deserved  _ it.” She thought about Plutt, about how she’d vowed that he’d hit her and attempted to touch her for the very last time. She’d bided her time slowly, carefully, and when he’d tried to press his luck again, she’d been ready for him. “When the time came, I enjoyed it. When they found me, it was too late for him.”

She didn’t need to tell him who had found her. The pieces were already falling into place on his face. Her voice felt rough as she continued, “And when you’re facing down prison and someone whispers in your ear that you could be so much more. That you have so much  _ potential.  _ That you could learn things so  _ no one _ could ever hurt you again. Well, there really is no choice, is there?”

Kylo Ren retreated and she could see the edges of Ben Solo once more, materializing in the brown flicker of his eyes. There was pain, regret, a thousand stories that she’d likely never hear, and he’d never tell. And behind it all was something else. Pity. And that just wouldn’t do. So, she picked up one of her darts, the plastic grip held tightly between her fingers, closed her eyes and in her mind saw the target. She pulled her hand back and sent the dart flying, only hearing the thud as it sunk into the corkboard.

She opened her eyes and saw Ben give her a  _ look _ . She didn’t bother to see how closely she’d gotten to the bullseye, instead meeting him with challenge in her eyes as if daring him to continue pitying her. He merely cleared his throat before saying, “I don’t think we should keep playing anymore.”

A spike of anger shot through her veins, her eyes narrowing as she retorted, “It was  _ your  _ idea. So, are you going to go? Or are you forfeiting?”

He let out a sigh, “I…I don’t want to play this game anymore, Rey. You win.” He moved as if to go retrieve his jacket and why did it feel like she’d lost  _ again _ ? He was treating her like a petulant child.

“Then answer my question,” she hissed, refusing to back down and spurred on by something she couldn’t describe.

“Fine, what’s your question?” he asked, his voice weary. The man who’d paced on the sidewalk was back again, and he was pushing her to a breaking point.

“Do you still want me?” The words came unbidden. It was stupid. She  _ knew  _ it was stupid. Sleeping with him in Washington was one thing. She hadn’t known him then. Sleeping with him  _ here _ , after they’d practically spit venom at each other in the words of their past? She’d never told anyone else, not even Beau. Those records were sealed and kept under lock and key, only privy to her most direct superiors. She could tell that  _ he  _ knew it was stupid in the way he flinched visibly as if she’d struck him. But still. She continued, “I know you do. I’ve seen you watching me. So, tell me, Ben.”

“I-“ he faltered, knocked off guard by her. “We can’t…” And that only added fire to the flame of impulse.

So, Rey fell back on the old tactic that had served her well. When things got  _ complicated _ or  _ difficult _ it was easier to just surrender to her physical urges, pretend that that’s  _ all  _ this was and bury the  _ feelings _ and  _ emotions _ under a thick haze of carnal lust. She stalked toward him, turning the tables and looking at him with heat in her eyes. 

“That’s not what I asked. So give me an  _ honest  _ answer. Do. You. Want. Me?” The look of surrender in his eyes, the same look of pleading from the night before when he’d practically begged her to stay, was all the answer she needed. But still, she reached out to him watching him tense at her encroaching fingers. She smoothed the collar of his shirt as she looked at him from under her eyelashes, “You say you’re a monster and maybe...maybe I am too. Maybe I like it, Ben. Maybe I want you to just  _ try _ to break me.”

Ben’s jaw was working, his plush lips parting slightly and Rey looked at them for just a moment.

She darted her eyes around the empty space, suddenly too crowded despite the lack of people. Wedge was still probably moving things around in the back stockroom, she could hear him, too busy to notice his only two patrons. She pulled a five-pound note from her wallet and tossed it on the table near their half empty glasses, despite Wedge’s earlier insistence that the drinks were on the house. After putting it down she turned on her heel and moved in the direction of the bathroom. 

“Where are you going?” Ben asked, clearly at a loss for how many times this conversation had changed in the course of the last few minutes. He didn’t seem as if he’d anticipated an offer like this from her today. But Rey was surprising even herself.

She turned, peering at him over her shoulder with a coy smile and an impatient tone as if explaining something very obvious. “I’m going to step into the toilet. And I’m going to leave the door unlocked. And if you should chance to follow me, in say…five minutes, then I suppose we’ll see what happens.”

“And if I don’t?” he asked, and she could see the bob of his Adam’s apple. This was a dance and both of them knew the steps but he at least seemed hesitant to take them.

“Then this never happened,” she replied with a shrug that was purposely more nonchalant than she felt. “You go back to America. I never see anything past the desk they’re surely going to place me at permanently. And that’s how we leave things.”

She moved her legs quickly, barely catching the muffled “Rey-“ as she closed the door behind her.

It was times like this that she  _ wished _ she smoked. She couldn’t stand the smell of stale tobacco though, not after being saddled with Unkar Plutt and his endless stream of menthols. He’d leave them half smoked around the apartment, and before she’d seen the life drain from his eyes, she’d wondered what would happen if she just lit one and let it burn them both.

The minutes ticked by, or at least she assumed they did as she kept silent count of the seconds and Rey warred between wanting Ben to follow her in, to air out  _ whatever _ this was that had started between them and just…not. It would certainly be easier that way. The five minutes were very nearly up and she thought perhaps he’d decided against it, letting his better judgment (and God, one of them  _ ought  _ to be the sensible one) keep him from trailing after her.

But then.

The handle jiggled, turning slowly as if the person on the other side was still in the process of deciding. And then Ben slipped inside, his eyes darting behind him like a naughty schoolboy skiving off classes and checking that the schoolmaster hadn’t sighted him. Rey didn’t smile, though  _ something  _ warmed in her chest. Instead she stepped into his space, looking up at his towering form. She’d seen him watching her over the last several weeks, but only because  _ she  _ had been watching as well.

Small but strong hands wrapped around his tie, loosened ever so slightly from their earlier game, and tugged him down. He grunted slightly and she remembered once more the stitches on his side. Well, she had never promised to be  _ gentle _ . But then their lips met once more and  _ oh. _

__

They’d kissed several times by now, under pretense and not, but this felt different. It felt like a culmination to everything they hadn’t been saying since they’d arrived in Paris and before. Everything that had passed between them in side-glances and accidental brushings of skin since the night they’d first met. Ben’s lips were soft, but his kisses were not. He followed her as she scrabbled at the buttons to his shirt, ran her fingers through his thick hair, and pulled him back until her ass was pressed into the lip of the dirty pub sink.

Rey groped around until she felt her fingertips come into contact with the light switch. Ben broke away from her just long enough to cover her hand with his own, shaking his head roughly. “Don’t. I want to. Want to see you.”

“Stop talking,” she said firmly and pulled him back down to her lips, but left the light on, nonetheless. Talking was bad. Talking was trouble and might remind her that the two of them had no business pressing their bodies together inside of a cramped lavatory.

Rey let her hands come out from Ben’s hair just long enough to hop onto the sink behind her and then Ben was stepping between her legs. She could feel the way that his hands traveled, moving from her back and the way his fingers trailed like a waterfall through her hair. She shivered as the pads of his fingers glided through her curls and then cupped her jaw for just a moment before tracing the lines of her collar bones.

He fiddled with the first button and Rey realized that he was trying to “take his time” with her. She let out a noise of frustration and darted her hands down, making quick work of the next few buttons. The sides of her shirt fell slack and revealed the standard issue bra from MI6 that had been provided courtesy of Requisitions after they returned from Paris. He broke from her and his eyebrows were furrowed but she huffed before jerking her head toward the door, “Bit of a hurry, eh? We don’t have time for this.”

Ben opened his mouth once as if to say something, and she could almost hear the thoughts without how loud he was thinking them.  _ Then why did you drag me to a bar bathroom? What are we doing? Why are  _ you _ doing this? _

Rey decided to put an end to the thoughts and brought her hand between his legs, palming him over his pants. She could see the way that he tensed. Good, no more thinking for either of them. She stroked him a couple more times, pleased that he was at least ready, before working at his buckle.

Ben took this time to lean forward and start placing fevered kisses to her neck. He bit back a moan when she let her hand wander beneath his boxers (also standard issue) and found his cock ready and waiting for her. It was velvety and heavy in her hand, just like she remembered. If Ben Solo had nothing else, he did at least have a very nice cock. Rey had thought in the beginning that such a nice piece of equipment was truly wasted on a man as much of an arrogant prick as Ben. Now? She’d spent the last two and a half months wondering what it would be like to have his cock back in her hand and between her legs. Ben kissed the tops of her breast and Rey leaned back onto the mirror, closing her eyes as she felt him none too gently push aside the crotch of her panties.

She groaned as Ben pressed first one finger inside of her, then another, reveling in the sounds that he made when he found her already wet and wanting. Rey let him work his fingers in and out for a moment, appreciating the stretch but put a hand on his shoulder when his lips began to migrate from her breasts to the still unopened buttons near the waist of her pencil skirt. The last thing she needed was Ben Solo trying to be “generous” with her. That wasn’t what they’d silently agreed to when he’d followed her in here.

Rey cleared her throat and gestured once more at the closed door, “No time. Just-just  _ fuck _ me already.”

“Rey-“ he started, her name both a warning and a question. His brows furrowed and he looked as if he wanted to protest and Rey regretted leaving the light on. “This isn’t how I...Do you even want me to-“

“I said no talking.”

She didn’t want to see the hurt in his eyes. She grasped him again, maneuvering the elastic of his boxers down to let his length spring free. She eyed him as if issuing a challenge. His lust in the end overpowered his sense of chivalry and with a frustrated groan he yanked her panties down, so they hung limply around her ankles. His hands were quick and strong and she almost gasped at the swiftness.

Ben lined himself up at her entrance and pressed inside and Rey’s head lolled back for a moment at the sensation. Ben gripped tightly at her thighs as he started out with a punishing pace. His mouth was at her ear and she could hear the small grunts and moans of pleasure that he was letting out under his breath. Rey wrapped her arms around his back, hands sliding between his shoulder blades and he paused for a moment, tensing up.

When Ben continued, he slowed himself down to a torturous pace. Rey whined, “Ben, please-“

“No talking, remember? That’s what you wanted, right?” he said in her ear. The deep baritone growl was enough to send shivers down her spine. He continued to move in and out, dragging along her inner walls. He was  _ making love  _ to her now and part of her wanted to shove him back, maybe clock him right across the jaw. But another part was lost in the moment, lost in the smell of his hair and the feel of his body pressed against hers. She let her mind wander, drifting to some imaginary place where Ben Solo might take his time loving every inch of her skin, where she hadn’t been abandoned and left to fend for herself, and where titles like  _ lover  _ and  _ boyfriend _ were safe and commonplace. Where the thought of someone whispering their affections to her wouldn’t send her running in the opposite direction. 

When one of his hands drifted between her legs, thumb gently stroking her clit, she nearly lost it. She started to let out soft little pants, clinging to him harder and the vision in her mind’s eye only served to intensify the cravings and ramp up her arousal. He was going to drag an orgasm from her one way or another and she felt powerless to stop him. He was going to force her to  _ feel  _ things, when all she’d wanted was to fuck the vulnerability out of herself instead of reinforcing it. When she reached her shatter point, she bit down  _ hard  _ on his shoulder and he let out a grunt of pain comingled with pleasure. It didn’t take but a few more hard strokes after her walls fluttered and clenched around his cock for him to follow her with a low groan.

When he pulled out, his spend dripping slightly from her cunt, Ben Solo looked her in the eyes. And in that soft brown gaze she could see something forming. She knew what it was when he brought a large hand up to cup her cheek gently,  _ so  _ gently. Like she was a china doll. “Rey, I-“

“No,” she said vehemently, feeling a surge of pain well in her chest. Pain mingling with sadness and something else. A wanting. A yearning. A soft cry from inside of her that wanted her to not utter her next words. But it was too late, the spell had been broken and Rey couldn’t pretend that she lived in the world of her dreams. “Don’t say it. Don’t  _ ever  _ say it. You don’t mean it.”

Rey pushed him back, jumping off the sink even as part of him dripped down her thighs. She was happy to have an excuse to look away from him as she leaned down to yank up her underwear and straighten her skirt back down. She turned to the door when it was time to button her blouse. Her eyes stung and she silently cursed Ben. “This didn’t happen.”

When she was in some semblance of order once more, she left him in that bathroom. He didn’t try to stop her. Her dignity was the only thing she had left, and she would be damned before she let him see her tears. She didn’t care if Wedge saw her, but luckily, he was still rooting around in the back storeroom. Despite the fact that it was a temperate summer day, it felt like an icy wind was biting at her as she reached the street. Every part of her was fighting to prevent it, but she felt a hot wet drop trail down her face in defiance. She furiously scrubbed at her skin to get rid of the traitor and stormed off to her apartment. Thankfully Ben wouldn’t know where it was located.

* * *

She avoided him at the office after that. He was only going to be here a few more days. They debriefed separately and true to her prediction, Pryde had her reassigned to the file room. It almost felt like a blessing despite the assignment clearly being a punishment. At least down here she could bury herself in the musty paper and the geriatric computers.

She knew he was gone a few days later. Whispers from around MI6 floated even down to this dank basement. He hadn’t tried to say goodbye to her, and she didn’t know what would have happened if he had.

Rey tried to ignore the ache that settled in her chest as the next month dragged on. She threw herself into the file work like she did everything else. As she was working diligently through a particularly large stack, she barely registered Gwendolyn Phasma’s arrival. That is until the tall woman threw a folder on Rey’s desk, obscuring the paperwork she’d been sorting through.

“You’ve been transferred,” Phasma said with clipped tones. “You’re going back to Washington.”

“What?” Rey asked dumbly and the statuesque blonde rolled her eyes.

“I don’t make the assignments; I only communicate them. Your plane leaves tonight. Familiarize yourself with the file, then dispose of it before you leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okie, so hopefully you won't judge Rey too harshly. She's in a fucked up headspace. She does have feelings for Ben and that will be more apparent as we move forward, but she's not in a place where she can admit it yet. Anyways, thank you everyone who has left kudos or commented and encouraged me to pick this story back up. I really appreciated it and love reading all of your feedback <3
> 
> Find me on The Twitter™ [here](https://twitter.com/_RamboBrite_). I post fanart, chapter announcements and other Reylo content.


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